CSi: IN04: Show Me A Sane Man
by A Rhea King
Summary: What should have been a simple pysch eval to let Nick return to work suddenly becomes a fight to keep his freedom and sanity. Is he losing his mind, or is his paranoia anchored in reality?
1. Chapter 1

**Show Me A Sane Man**_-0-_  
By A. Rhea King

_Following the stories: 'When Seconds Matter' and 'The Art of Going Insane'_

**Chapter 1**

Jim pulled into the parking lot and watched a helicopter lower a car onto the tarmac. He got out and joined Catherine and Langston. When the car had landed, the tethers were removed and then David and another M.E. moved in to remove the bodies inside from the front and back seats. The CSI and Jim walked forward. David pulled a wallet from a coat pocket and unfolded it. He suddenly grinned, looking up at them.

"Guess what?" David asked.

"What?" Catherine asked.

David held the wallet open, showing the picture on the driver's license. "Look familiar?"

Catherine pulled on a glove and took it. "Nate Hutchins."

"Ten to one that other fella will be Hugh," Jim said.

Catherine nodded.

Langston leaned in. "I think we should let Nick take this one."

She looked up, seeing a Denali pull up behind her Tahoe. Nick got out, grabbed his kit from the back and headed toward them.

"Me too. I'll tell him and then we'll take the other scene in town."

Catherine walked toward Nick, stopping him. He smiled.

"Good to be back on?" she asked.

He nodded. "What do you have for me?"

"A couple of fishermen found a car on their fish sonar. Divers found two bodies inside."

"That looks like the car I found at the picnic area when I went looking for Miranda."

"Could be." She held up the driver's license. "He look familiar?"

Nick almost grabbed it bare handed. He dropped his kit, pulled on gloves and took it.

"That's Nate!"

"And the other's probably Hugh. I think you should take this alone and add a few nail to Julia and Katrick's coffin."

"Thanks, Catherine. I really appreciate it."

"No problem, but remember..." Nick recited with her, "A CSI 1 has to keep the supervisor informed on all processes." Nick chuckled and then added, "Been demoted three days and you've already drilled it into my head. Got it."

Catherine leaned in, laying her hand on his shoulder. "It won't be forever. We both know the truth.

"I'm not worried. Haven't had this much free time for a while."

"Just for that…" She shook her finger at him as she walked away.

Nick stared at the picture, aware of Warrick leaning over his arm. "I'm going to really enjoy this crime scene. Course, any crime scene that adds years to Julia and Jeff's sentence is enjoyable."

"Got that right," Nick quietly finished.

"Let's get this wrapped up, man. I want cake."

Nick smiled, grabbing his kit. "What is with you and cake?" he whispered.

Warrick laughed, following him on to the crime scene. Nick had a hard time he was actually walking onto a crime scene after everything that had happened."

* * *

Nick shifted in his chair, trying not to look as uncomfortable as he felt. He glanced to his left. Warrick was sitting in a chair next to him, looking like he was asleep. Hallucinations apparently got bored too. There was another man sitting in the chair. Nick thought about striking up a conversation, but he wasn't really interested in talking.

"Mister Stokes?" a voice said.

He looked up at the woman standing in the door. Nick grabbed his coat and followed her into the room beyond. She motioned to an uncomfortable plastic chair that faced another and then sat down.

"Julia Green," she said, holding out her hand. "You will call me Doctor Green."

While Nick was a little put off by the introduction, he maintained his smile and shook her hand.

"You're name sounds familiar," she said. "Have we met before?"

"I don't know. Maybe we worked a case together. You are the police shrink."

She smiled. "I really don't like 'shrink,' Nick. Can I call you Nick?"

"Sounds like you don't really have a choice," Warrick said as he walked between them and took a seat in her desk chair.

"Sure," Nick answered.

She settled back in her chair, picking up a notepad and pen from the side table. "This will be a two day evaluation where I will determine if you are mentally capable of continuing duty following an attempt to strike a supervisor. I understand you've been seeing a therapist outside of the department."

"Yeah."

Julia looked at the notepad, scribbling something on it. "I'll need you to sign a form to release your session notes to me."

"Maybe when hell freezes, lady!" Warrick blurted.

"No," told her without hesitation.

Julia looked up at him. "Excuse me?"

"I'm not releasing anything to you. This is an evaluation. You don't need any of that."

"I'm the psychiatrist, I'll determine that."

"Tell you what, you give Greta a call. If she feels you need that information, she'll tell me, and then I'll release it."

"You don't trust me?"

"No!" Warrick snarled, moving to stand behind Julia. "You've got our bitch radar going off."

Nick couldn't agree more. "Unless you can provide me with an undisputable argument as to why you need that information, and Greta agrees with it, I'm not releasing anything."

"This isn't going to help your evaluation."

"You're saying my refusing to release private information from my therapist to you will automatically fail my evaluation?"

"No. It means it's going to take four weeks before I will clear you, instead of two days. And during that time, I'm recommending you be suspended."

"This is just a psych eval. Why would it take four weeks?"

"Because without those records, I'm going to have to start from scratch. And I'll need to see you every other day."

Nick let out a slow sigh. "Fine. Guess we'll get to know each other real well for four weeks."

Julie jotted something down. "Very well. Let's get started. Can you—"

"Ma'am, I need a breather before we get started."

"You only have an hour."

Nick scrubbed his fingers across his forehead.

"You seem agitated."

Nick looked up at her.

"Was that a rhetorical question?" Warrick said. He was fuming. And since Nick had come to realize he voiced the anger that Nick often bottled, that mean Nick was fuming.

"Fine. Let's get started," Nick told her between gritted teeth. "And then I can go get agitated on a boxing bag."

"So you do have a healthy way of venting anger. That's good to hear."

Nick didn't comment.

"Tell me about your background, Nick. What was your childhood like?"

"Oh God! Kill me now!" Warrick cried. He made a fist and pretended to be stab himself.

Nick resisted smiling at his hallucination's antics. Instead he started giving unimportant details of his childhood to the shrink – he would call her that behind her back from now on since she didn't like it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Nick looked up when Catherine's office door flew open. She shut it, staring at him.

"What did you do?" were the first words out of her mouth.

"I didn't do anything, Catherine!" Nick argued.

"Then why am I suspending you for four weeks? And why has this psych eval suddenly gone from two days to four weeks? Did you tell her about Warrick?"

"I wouldn't tell that lady if my arm was cut off! I guess she got mad when I refused to sign a release for her to get Greta's therapy notes."

Catherine sat down in her desk chair. "She wanted you to release your therapy session notes to her? For a psych eval?"

"Yeah. When I refused to do it, she decided to have me suspended and that the psych eval was going to take four weeks."

"You must have really made an impression with her, Nick."

Nick frowned. "I said no. That's it."

"You called her shrink. She didn't like it," Warrick reminded him.

"There is nothing wrong with calling her a shrink," Nick told him.

"Nick!" Catherine snapped.

Nick looked at her.

"We do not talk to Warrick in my office. Remember?"

Warrick laughed and Nick smiled.

"I remember, but he's right. I did call her shrink and she didn't like it."

"That is hardly a reason for all of this." Catherine motioned at papers on her desk, presumably the paperwork Julia had faxed over to be signed.

"Well, there you have it. I made my new shrink angry by saying no. Sorry."

Catherine looked up at him. "Ecklie doesn't want any red flags flying so he suggested I sign this so she won't ask questions about you and your imaginary friend."

Nick leaned on his elbows on her desk, putting his head in his hands. "All this for one piece of paper signed. Greg's great plan to keep me off the stand for a few months is backfiring in the biggest way, Catherine!"

"I know, Nicky. You have to know he feels really bad about it, but we have to keep a lid on this or that's it for you," Catherine said. He heard her scribble on paper. "So enjoy a month off. I was thinking of telling the others what's happening, leaving out the talking to dead co-worker part, of course. They'd be happy to help you out with your mortgage payment or utilities."

Nick sat back, slouching. "You can tell them, but I don't need help. I still have some in savings and when I told my parents what happened, they were happy to help too. I'm fine right now."

"Off to the fax machine I go."

The two got up and walked to the door.

"Why don't you come over tomorrow night for supper? Then you can meet Lindsay's new boyfriend, Chaz. He's got more holes in him than Swiss cheese."

"Nice. See you tomorrow night."

Nick watched her walk down the hall, and then headed for the reception area.

* * *

Nick walked into the waiting room and almost let out a loud sigh when he saw three familiar faces. He stopped at the front desk and signed in next to his name, then sat down between the man and woman.

"How's it going Miranda?" Nick asked.

She tore her blank stare away from the wall to him. She was a paranoid schizophrenic who firmly believed that aliens were coming to suck her brain out and kill all the bees.

"They're coming you know," she told him.

Nick nodded. "Yes, ma'am, but they haven't gotten here yet. They have to get past the inner sanctum assault team. Right?"

"Right. But they will. They're powerful."

"I'm sure they are." Nick picked up a magazine. Hugh Kallen caught his eye. The man had lifted his magazine up to hide his grin. Today his feminine personality, Herminie, had him dressed to the nines as a proper 1950's socialite.

"Herminie. You're looking well."

Hugh dropped his magazine, waving Nick off. "Oh stop it. You flirt!"

Nick smiled. "How's Hugh been doing?"

Hugh rolled his eyes. "He is just miserable. That boss of his is horrid."

"I bet he is. George has been behaving himself, hasn't he? I know you and Hugh really get upset when he takes over."

"George is such a bully! He always messes up my face." Hugh ran his hand down his face.

Julia appeared at the door. "Hugh, come on."

"Herminie."

"Hugh. Now." Julia snapped.

Hugh hid his mouth from Julia as he stood up, whispering to Nick, "This woman must live on the rag!"

Nick just smiled, watching Hugh go in with Julia. Julia shot Nick a dark glare as she closed the door. Nick looked at his magazine.

"She sure loves you," Nate said.

He sat on Nick's other side with a thick book sitting on his lap. Nick wasn't sure what was wrong with Nate. He seemed as normal as Nick, although that wasn't reassuring since Nick was seeing a dead person. He did notice that Nate didn't smile, or frown, or make any facial expressions. His voice didn't usually reflect much emotion either.

"I think it's the accent. Us Texans just do that to people."

"Is that so?"

"It is. I swear it."

Nate nodded. "Then what's my excuse? She hates me too."

"She hates everyone," Miranda blurted. "Sent by the Autirlians to infiltrate."

Nick nodded, looking at Miranda. "Maybe so, but let's not let her know that. We have to convince her we don't know that."

"Right. Right."

Nate leaned over and quietly told Nick, "You are enabling her."

"Naw." Nick looked at him with a grin.

"You know what I'd like for once?" Nate folded his hands on his book. "To come in here, just once, and she wasn't backed up by three hours. Just once."

Nick nodded. "I hear that."

Warrick leaned across Miranda. "I really think this Julia is hiding something." Warrick sat back. "But sooner or later, we'll uncover her evil plot for world domination."

"The Autirlians have sent a message. Her world domination plot will be uncovered!" Miranda suddenly blurted.

Both men looked at her. For Nick it was a little spooky how close she came to repeating Warrick.

Nick looked at Nate. "If she were on time, think of all this free entertainment you'd miss."

Nate didn't react or agree. He changed the subject to basketball.

#

Nick entered Julia's 'torture room,' as he and Warrick had begun calling it. He stopped short, staring at the video camera.

"Why is there a camera in here?"

"I'm videotaping sessions from now on. Have a seat."

Nick turned, watching her sort through papers. "I didn't say it was okay to videotape our sessions."

"It's not your choice."

"It's not? Cuz last I checked—"

Julia looked up, glaring at him. "Fine. We'll take it out; you can wait another week on that pysch eval. Fair trade?"

"No!" Warrick bellowed, appearing behind her. "If you were a man, I swear to God I'd knock your lights out, lady."

"No. Not really." Nick sat down in the uncomfortable 'patient' chair, glaring at the camera.

Julia started the camera recording and then sat own in her chair and sat down. She looked up at him.

"You look tired."

"My sleep's all messed up. Normally, I'd be asleep right now."

"You've been working the graveyard shift a while, I take it."

"Yeah."

"It's called shift work sleep disorder."

Nick met her eyes. "I don't have a sleep disorder. We aren't going there."

"You're sure defensive today."

Nick sighed, slouching in his chair. "Sure. Whatever you say, Jul… Doctor Green."

She got up, walking to her desk and writing something down. She returned to her chair. "After our session today, I'll call in a prescription at Al's Market down the street. It's an anti-psychotic that should help you sleep."

"I don't need anything."

"The dark circles under your eyes say something else."

Nick stared at her. "Why are you giving me an anti-psychotic for sleep?"

"It's non-habit forming and is contains a mild sedative. I don't think you need anything stronger. Do you?"

"We don't need an anti-psychotic either," Warrick told her, walking up behind her.

He leaned over, as if he were reading her notes. But the truth still remained – he only knew as much as Nick did; he was Nick, after all. At least Nick's real therapist had helped him get to that realization before he had to deal with Julia.

"Do you?" Julia asked again.

"No. I'm good."

"Okay. Let's get started, shall we?"

"Because that was really a choice question," Warrick snarled, strolling over to a window.

Nick focused on her so he wouldn't slip up when Warrick started going off about how inadequate and asinine she was.

* * *

Nick had been longing to go to breakfast with the team since the evaluation sessions began, and right after his appointment with Julia he headed for Frank's. They laughed for two hours, going well over the hour lunch without noticing it. Nick and Riley got into a slugfest, amusing the others with the childish play. Then suddenly Catherine did notice and the group paid and headed for the door.

Nick, Greg, and Riley came around the corner. Riley and Nick were still slugging it out and laughing.

"Uh… Nick…" Greg said, grabbing his arm.

Nick looked at him. Greg was staring wide-eyed down the street even as he pulled Nick to a stop. Nick looked up and the first reaction was shock. Right on its heels was anger.

"WHAT THE HELL!?" Nick bellowed, storming toward his pickup. "MY TRUCK!?"

The passenger mirror was hanging off the side. All along the black paint were deep grooves most likely made by keys. Every window had been broken out. The taillights were broken out. Nick's hands went to the back of his neck as he slowly walked around to the front. The lights were busted out in the front. He walked around to the driver's side, standing in the street. The driver's side door had been run into several times, with silver paint transferred onto the black paint.

"Holy. Shit." Warrick said, appearing next to Nick.

He was so focused on the door that he didn't see Riley and Greg move up to the passenger door and lean in together to stare inside.

"Nick?" Riley questioned.

"Yeah?"

"I'm going out on a limb here… But I think this was done by a really, really angry woman."

"Why?"

"Cheater is carved into your seats, blinds, the rugs, the ceiling."

"News to us," Warrick said.

Nick moved close enough he could see in. "I'm not even dating anyone right now! Oh my God!"

He turned, looking at the sky. Could his luck possibly get any worse?

"Oh my…" He heard Catherine say. "Oh Nicky."

He turned. She, Langston, and Jim were standing on the sidewalk with Riley and Greg, the two staring at the damaged pickup. Nick looked down and his eye noticed something.

"No…" Nick said. He walked around to the front of the hood and started to reach for the hood lever.

"Gloves. I need some gloves."

Greg brought him a pair. Nick popped the hood and pushed it open.

"SON OF A—" Nick bellowed.

Whoever had done this had ripped cables out and smashed several parts. The vandal had stolen the battery and anything else that could be grabbed, all eight spark plugs, and then bashed the hell out of the engine with something metal.

"I don't think your driving this anywhere for a while," Greg told him.

"Ya think!" Nick snapped back.

"Hey, I'm not the one that did this, Nick!" Greg snapped back.

Nick walked over to the building wall and leaned against it. He slid down, covering his face with his hands. He was somewhere between breaking down crying and screaming.

"Nick, it's okay. It's just a pickup and you have insurance. It's okay," Warrick said.

"That's not the point," Nick whispered.

"I'll call it in," Jim said, "if you guys want to go on."

"Nick?" Riley said. "Do you want us to stay? We can stay if you need us to."

Nick shook his head. "No."

"Didn't you have to pick up a prescription before you went home?" Greg asked.

Nick nodded.

"I'll stay with him, Catherine," Greg offered.

"Okay. Call if you need anything, Nick," Catherine told him.

He nodded.

"Hey, give me those gloves. I'll get your insurance out and we'll get that started, okay?" Greg said.

Nick sat up, pulling the gloves off. He held them up. Greg crouched down, taking them. The two looked at each other. Jim was standing at the end of the pickup, probably reading off the license plate to dispatch.

"Are you two okay?" Greg asked. "You're not going to go off or anything."

"Have I ever?"

"Actually, yeah. When you get stressed and you and Warrick start having a conversation. I've don't know that I can cover with Jim standing right there."

"He comes out all the time. Not just when I'm stressed."

"Sometimes, but more often when you get stressed."

This was news to Nick. "He's just standing here." Nick motioned in Warrick's direction. "He's not saying anything."

"Okay." Greg went to the pickup.

"I know it looks and feels bad, Nick," Warrick started, "But you gotta look at the good side here. You have some really good friends looking out for you. What's that my grandma used to say to me? Oh yeah… Count your blessings."

"My grandma never told me that," Nick whispered.

"Mine did."

Nick looked up at him. "I never knew your grandma."

"You sure?"

Nick looked away. He wasn't going to argue with a dead man.

* * *

Loaded down with bags, and trying to pull a dolly ladened with boxes, Greg came off the elevator and headed for the lab.

"Whoa!" someone out of his sight said, and then hands grabbed his arms.

"Ronnie?" Greg asked.

She appeared to his side. "Busy night?"

Greg nodded. "Yeah. Hey, could you do me a favor?"

"Carry something?"

"No. Nick's truck was trashed by someone yesterday morning and I've been so swamped I couldn't get to the garage before it closed to process it. Could you do it for me today? Please?"

"What'cha going to pay me?"

Greg thought. "I will shower you with blessings of fertility and gratitude."

"I'll pass on the fertility. Where's it at?"

"The address is in my left vest pocket."

She moved around him and fished out the paper with the address on it. She looked it over.

"Okay. See you later, Greg."

Greg watched her leave, then started walking again.

* * *

Jim Brass pulled up behind the squad car. An officer was standing by the back door and he could see someone moving around in the back. Jim climbed out and walked up to the officer, Jeremy Powell.

"Jeremy," Jim said with a single nod.

The officer nodded back.

"Dispatch said you asked for me. What's going on?"

Jeremy heaved a heavy breath. "I tried to get a hold of Ecklie, but he's in meetings all day. I tried Catherine, but she's at a crime scene and couldn't get away. You were the last person I could think of to call for him. He's acting like he's drunk or stoned or high or… I don't know. I've never known him to do any of that and I didn't want to book him. I know he's had it pretty rough lately, so—"

Jim cocked his head a little. "Him who?"

Jeremy opened the doors and as Nick came out, Jeremy answered, "Stokes."

"JIM!" Nick cried and then thrust out his hand with an exuberant grin. "Hey!"

Jim shook his hand, playing along with this.

"Nick. What's going on?"

"Nothing!"

"Nick. What's going on?"

"Nothing. I swear."

"He was bounced out of the Mirage. They said he was cheating," Jeremy said.

Jim glanced at the bouncers standing at the door across the street. "Nick, how much have you had to drink?"

Nick grew still for a second. Then he grinned and told him, "I dunno!"

"Right. Okay. Thanks Jeremy. Come on, Nicky." Jim looped his arm around Nick's, leading him back to his car.

"Jim… Let's go get cake."

Jim tried not to smile. He opened the passenger door but Nick resisted.

"If you get in, we'll get cake," Jim lied.

That got Nick in the car. Jim got in and pulled into traffic.

"Hey, what'cha got?" Nick said.

Jim glanced at him. He had twisted around and was looking at something in the back seat.

"Where did you get cake?" Nick asked the back seat.

"Nick, who are you talking to?"

Nick looked at him. "Warrick. He's got cake."

Jim almost hit a car that had stopped for a red light. He quickly pulled over and then looked at Nick. He was watching the back seat again.

"You were so on a roll in there, man. I can't believe they thought we were cheating just because you and I were talking. Yeah. I know. I mean... We were just better than the house." Nick turned and fell back in the seat. "The house didn't win today!" Nick tilted his head back, looking at the ceiling. He poked at it. "Well, yeah, I guess they did. They threw us out. Jim…" Nick sat up, looking at Jim. He hesitated. "Are you okay? You look sick."

"You're talking to Warrick?"

"Yeah. I talk to Warrick all the time."

"Since when?"

"When they like bashed my head in down in the tunnels. I came around and there he was. Been around ever since."

"Really?

Nick nodded. "Yeah. Have you seen him when—"

"And you see him now? In the back seat eating cake?"

"Oh yeah. He won't share it though. Which is really not cool, but what'cha gonna do?"

Jim looked at the road, answering quietly, "What'cha gonna do. Let's get you home." Jim pulled back into traffic.

For the rest of the ride he listened to Nick converse with a man that had been dead for over a year to the rest of the world.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

The fog Nick was in felt impossible to break through, despite hearing his cell phone ringing near his head. He reached up, patting the bedside table for it. His hand wrapped around the vibrating device and he flicked it open as he brought it to his ear. Nick rolled onto his back, opening his eyes. Maybe that would help chase off the foggy headed feeling he had.

"Hem-oh?" Nick muttered. His mouth felt like it had cotton in it.

"Nick?" the person on the other end questioned.

"Mm-hm." Nick closed his eyes tight, and then popped them open. All that did was open his eyes, not banish the fogginess in his head.

"Nick, are you okay?"

Nick didn't recognize the voice. Who the hell was this? How did she know his name?

"Wha… Who is this?"

"Julia Green."

It took Nick several minutes to connect the importance of that name. "Why are you calling me?"

"You are a half hour late to your appointment. Are you all right? You sound like you've been drinking."

Nick sat up, looking at the bedside clock, then down at himself. Why was he still in his clothes? He didn't even remember coming home. Suddenly his heart skipped a beat when he remembered someone standing in the doorway of his bedroom. It struck such a sharp fear in him that he sat up, staring at the empty doorway. He couldn't shake the feeling he should see someone there.

"I'm not drunk. I just woke up."

Nick looked out his bedroom door again. Was the mysterious just another figment of his imagination?

"You just woke up?"

He heard her condescending tone.

"Nick, missing an appointment isn't helping your case. Especially after what you said to me yesterday. I'm sorry; I had to release that session's tape to your supervisor. And I'm not entirely certain you're ready for working anywhere now."

"What? What are you talking about? I was there yesterday? We didn't have an appointment yesterday."

"No. We didn't. But you showed up and insisted on talking to me. You and your friend and I had a rather revealing conversation."

Nick's mouth went dry. "What friend?"

"Your dead co-worker, Warrick."

"What?" Nick asked.

"Perhaps it's a trend today. You're the fourth client that didn't come to their session today."

"Fourth?"

"Yes. The three before you. The ones you see every day you come to your sessions."

Nick knew which three she was talking about: Nate Hutchins, Miranda Thornton, and Hugh Kallen.

"I'm…." Nick closed his eyes.

"Hang up the phone. Tell her good-bye, now. Something isn't right," Warrick ordered, suddenly at Nick's side.

Nick looked up at him. It was rare for him to be relieved to see his hallucination, but he was missing so many pieces right now he hoped the hallucination might know what some or all of them were.

"Julia, let's reschedule for—"

"Tomorrow. Two pm. Be here this time or I'm sending your eval back stating you have no interest in completing it." The phone clicked and then there was a dial tone.

Nick closed the phone, looking at it. "I really, really hate that woman."

He reached up, laying his hand on the back of his neck and rubbing it. That made his neck itch. He rubbed it a little, scratching the spot, then dropped his hand. He looked up at Warrick.

"Please tell me you know what happened to me yesterday. I remember having breakfast with everyone. I went out and my truck was trashed. Greg waited while I took care of it, and then gave me a ride to pick up my meds and bring me home. And then… Nothing. I got nothing."

"Me too."

"You are not helping."

"If you don't know it, what makes you think I do?"

"I was hoping that, subconsciously, I know what the hell happened to an entire day and a half of my life."

"Sorry, man. I got nothing."

Nick fell back on his bed, sighing. "I think Julia is doing something sneaky. Let's go grab some lunch and then see if Greg knows anything more." Nick sat up. "We'll take your car."

Warrick laughed, making Nick smile. Nick slid off his bed and was in the middle of stretching his back when someone knocked on his front door. He shuffled out to the door and opened it. Catherine barged in, heading straight for his television.

"Do you have VCR? How do you turn this on?" Catherine asked as she passed. "We have a problem, Nick. Ecklie said he got a copy of this tape too."

"Hi, Catherine." Nick swung the door shut. "Why don't you come in?"

He walked into the living room, watching with her. Nick grabbed two remotes by his chair and switched on the TV and VCR. She slid the tape in, and then backed up to join him.

"Play it," she ordered

Nick hit play. The second he saw himself he knew something was wrong.

**--**

_Nick wears a goofy grin, the type he has when he's completely trashed. He looks like he's been rolling around on the ground – he has dirt on his clothes, his hair is sticking up, and his shirt is buttoned crooked. He slouches in the chair, unusually relaxed. Julia isn't in the frame yet. Her body comes into view and she places her hand on the back of Nick's neck, tapping a finger against his neck a couple times. Nick grins stupidly up at her._

_"Hi, Doc," Nick says._

_Her heavy sigh is audible over the camera microphone. She disappears for a second, and then sits down in her chair._

_"So, what was so important you had to barge into my office and talk to me?"_

_"Warrick and I went to the casino this morning, and he won big time! See?" Nick holds up a roll of bills, the outside one is a hundred. "We're going to go back later and try to double it."_

_"So you gamble?"_

_"No. Warrick gambles. He always did. Almost got him fired once."_

_"You've never mentioned Warrick before. Who is he?"_

_"Used to be a co-worker. Well… actually he still is for me. No one else though._

_"He's your partner?"_

_"No!" Nick scoffs at the insinuation she isn't making but he heard. "He's not gay! Neither am I."_

_"I mean, is he your partner at work? Do you work together?"_

_"We used to."_

_"Used to? I'm not sure I understand how he can still be working with you but he's not. Explain that."_

_"He's, like… My guardian angel."_

_"I'm sorry, Nick. You're not making any sense. Is Warrick a real person?"_

_"He was. But he got shot. The Under Sheriff did it. But not in the kitchen with the pipe. In the alley with the gun." Nick laughs, looking off to his left. "Warrick jokes about that all the time."_

_Julia glances in the same direction, and then refocuses on Nick. "Warrick is here now?"_

_"Yeah. He's here now. Right there in your desk chair."_

**--**

"Oh God!" Nick groaned. He wasn't sure if he was going to vomit or just scream.

Catherine finished it with, "Yeah. That was Ecklie's remark at this point too. It gets worse."

Nick felt around behind him and sank into his recliner. Catherine sat down on the edge of the couch.

**--**

_"How long have you seen Warrick?" Julia asks._

_"Oh… Since I was almost beat to death in the tunnels. He showed up and kept me from giving up. He's been around since, just hanging out. He helps me on the job sometimes too."_

_"You've let him help you with cases?"_

_"Oh yeah! He's just as good dead as he was alive."_

_"Nick, you aren't usually this open or relaxed during our sessions. What did you take before you came here? What are you on right now?"_

_"Nothing. Oh. I took those anti-psychotics you prescribed."_

_"They don't cause people to behave like this. What else did you take with it?"_

_"Nothing."_

_"You didn't drink while you and Warrick were gambling?"_

_Nick thinks about it and then grins. "I dunno!"_

_"Uh-huh. What's the last thing you remember before the casino?"_

_Nick thinks about that. "I dunno!"_

_"We're going to have to talk more about Warrick, but I think I want you to go home and sleep this off."_

_"I can't. My truck's gone."_

_"Gone?"_

_"Yeah. It was trashed."_

_"How did you get here?"_

_Nick thinks about that. "I dunno!"_

_"I'm going to call you a cab. You need to go home, sleep off whatever you took or drank, and we'll talk about this in our scheduled session." She gets up and moves out of the frame. There is noise in the background._

_"You know what Julia?"_

_"What?"_

_"You're a real bitch, you know that? I mean. I came in here, to tell you something important, and you're kicking me out. I think you hate me."_

_Julia's phone slams down and she appears in the frame again. "I suppose everyone you know hates you."_

_Nick thinks about it. He shrugs. "No. Just you."_

_"Do you think that because you have this hallucination you're better than anyone else?"_

_Nick thinks about that. "Yeah! Course, anyone's better than you. You really suck at this job, know that?"_

_"Get out."_

_"What about the cab?"_

_"OUT!"_

_Nick stands, leaning in. She backs up two steps._

_"You need to get laid. Maybe it would relax you." And then he leaves. Julia walks up to the camera. The sound of her fumbling with the controls can be heard. It moves, flashing across the room, before the taping stops._

**--**

Catherine picked up the remote and stopped the tape. She looked at Nick. He hadn't taken his eyes off the screen.

"Nick?"

"That cannot be real."

"It is real."

Nick looked at her. "She knows about Warrick."

"Yeah. And that that is not the Nick I know. You were a complete prick! What the hell happened?"

"I don't know. I swear to you, Catherine, I don't know. The last thing I remember is coming home from the car rental. I don't remember going to a casino or to her office."

"You said you took an anti-psychotic."

"Yes. She prescribed them at our last session when I said I wasn't sleeping."

"She prescribed an anti-psychotic for sleeplessness?"

"I asked her about it too. She said it was non-habit forming and she didn't think I needed anything stronger."

"Did you talk to Greta about it?"

"Why would I? This lady is someone I'm supposed to be able to trust!"

"You're right, Nick… Ecklie is furious with you."

"Get on the bandwagon," Warrick snarled at Nick. He appeared next to him, glaring down at his human counterpart.

"Shut up! You go me into this mess." Nick snapped.

"I got you into this mess? I wasn't even there yesterday!"

"Then who the hell was I talking to on that tape? A ghost?"

Warrick started to yell back, then grinned. "There's such irony in that question."

"Nick," Catherine said. "Forget about Warrick right now. I need you focused here, on me."

He looked in her eyes, ignoring Warrick.

"Tell me everything you remember. And then I'm taking a couple of those pills for Henry to test."

Nick reached on the back of his neck and scratched the itch that suddenly started again. He dropped his hand and went over the limited memory he had of the missing day and a half.

* * *

Greg walked into the office he shared with Riley and Nick, and sat down at his desk. He sat the files in his hand down and noticed three new evidence envelopes sitting on his desk with a note. He peeled off the note: _Greg, found these on Nick's truck when I processed it yesterday. The silver paint was generic, nothing identifying about it. Other interesting stuff though. Ronnie_

Greg picked up the envelopes. The first was an envelope with a couple hairs. The note on the reverse side said Ronnie had found this in the engine caught under a bolt near the front. He and Nick had worked on the engine a week ago, so he didn't hold hope it would lead anywhere. The second was some gravel she'd found on the floorboard. Nick was known for going out of the city on his days off, so he wasn't sure that would help. The last was a strange green plant material. He held it up to the light, but couldn't identify it. He'd give it to Hodges and see what he could make of it.

Greg sat the bags aside and went to work on his cases.

Nick watched the floor. He was waiting for the computer to return with results on the search he'd sent it on.

"Hey Nick," Archie said as he came into the A.V. lab. He was loaded down with a box of mini-DV tapes, a reel of film, and a stack of CDs.

Nick smiled at him. Warrick stood at the door, watching him walk by.

"Are you back?"

"No. I'm… Trying to figure something out."

Archie smiled. He sat his cargo down on a table and joined Nick.

"Ecklie was pretty mad about something you did yesterday. He and Catherine were in her office for a few hours."

"I know."

"What happened?"

"I don't know."

"You know but you don't know?"

"I don't know what happened to me yesterday or the day before. I… I might have taken something or mixed something with some medication. I can't remember. I'm trying to see if I can find me," Nick motioned at the computer, "on any of the city cams we don't need warrants for."

"Damn. Something happened when you were out of it?"

"Apparently so. I just don't remember it."

"Kind of like what happened to Warrick, huh?"

Nick stared at Archie. He felt a cold stone in his stomach starting to form.

"Just like, is more like it," Warrick said.

"Except no one is dead," Nick finally said, looking away.

Archie didn't comment. Nick made a face when his neck started to itch. He reached back and started scratching his neck. He looked up when Archie grabbed his hand.

"Where did you get this bruise from? It's ugly."

"There's a bruise?"

"Yeah. And…" Archie leaned in. "Looks like a needle marks too."

Nick put his hand over the itchy spot. He didn't feel anything. He stood up.

"You know where Ray is?"

"Tox lab, last I saw."

"Can you let me know if it finds me?" Nick pointed at the computer.

"Sure."

Nick left the lab. Warrick fell into step beside him. It was a little disturbing for Nick to see people walk right through him – it only solidified the fact he wasn't right in the head.

He found Langston talking to Henry in the tox lab. They both offered a warm greeting with a smile.

"Good to see you back," Henry said.

"I'm not back. Ray, can you look at this." Nick turned, pointing to his neck.

Ray walked up to him, placing cool fingers on Nick's neck. Nick glanced to the side when Henry pushed in with him.

"What happened?" Ray asked.

"I don't know. Archie said it's bruised and there's a needle mark."

"Do you bruise easy?" Ray asked.

"No. Not really." Nick turned to face him.

"Then a needle must have been used in the same locations several times. Are you on an intravenous treatment for something? For example chemo? Although… The neck is a strange place for an injection."

"I'm not on any treatment, Ray. Just an anti-psychotic for sleep, that's it."

"An anti-psychotic for sleep?" Ray questioned.

"That's what this shrink doing my pysch eval gave me. She told me it was non-habit forming."

"Oh. Hey. I got the results back from those pills, Nick," Henry told him, "but they aren't anti-psychotics."

Ray and Nick both looked at him. Henry grabbed a folder from a rack and handed Nick the paper inside. Ray leaned into read it.

"Halcion?" Nick looked up at Henry. "And that's not a anti-psychotic?"

"No. It's not," Ray said, taking the sheet. "It's contains triazolam, which is a hypnotic drug. Henry, are you sure this dosage is right?"

"I tested it three times."

"Why? What's wrong with the dosage?" Nick asked, looking between the two.

"This drug is used to treat people with severe insomnia, Nick," Ray handed the paper back to Nick. "Not someone with the occasional sleeplessness and the dosage is point four milligrams. Point five or above is considered unsafe. That dosage shouldn't even be given to someone outside of a hospital or care facility. The side effects could be dangerous."

Nick sighed, looking up. "You mean like losing the memory of an entire day and a half, doing things you don't remember doing, behaving strangely, stuff like that?"

"Yes. Did that happen to you?"

"Yeah. It did."

"Do you think the pharmacy got it wrong?" Ray asked.

"I don't know." Nick reached up, scratching his neck. "And I don't know how I got needle marks on the back of my neck. I can't remember anything."

"Maybe we should draw blood and see what we find," Ray asked.

"I don't… No."

"Nick, let me draw some blood. Henry can run it as John Doe. Let's see what we find."

Nick looked up at Henry.

"You've become my new John Doe. How's it feel to be anonymous?" Henry quipped with a smile.

"If that kid ever gets serious, Nick, the world is coming to an end," Warrick commented.

Nick nodded. "Okay. I'll give you vampires some blood. But be sure you tell Catherine. She's been keeping an eye on things for me. Well… Mostly keeping an eye on me. Someone has to."

"I'll go get a syringe and tube. Be right back," Ray said and left.

Nick sat the paper down. "Henry, tomorrow morning, can we meet at Al's Market? You know more about this and I think I need to have a chat with the pharmacist there."

"Hey," Archie said as he stopped in the door. "There were no hits on the cams. You weren't anywhere we could see you. And you might wanna head for the back. Ecklie knows you're in the building and he's on a head hunt."

"Thanks."

Archie disappeared.

"I can meet you there. If you want to hide in the morgue, I'll tell Ray you're down there."

"Okay. Give those results to Catherine."

"Will do."

Nick slipped out the door, heading for the back stairs to avoid Ecklie.

* * *

Catherine stared at the print out, then looked up at Ray and Henry.

"Help me out here, guys. Why are you two so upset that you found modafinil in Nick's blood?"

"It's a stimulant drug," Ray told him. "It's used to treated sleep_i_ness. And it's present with triazolam, which is used to treat sleep_less_ness. Something happened to him, Catherine. He told me that he could recall taking a pill from that bottle of Halcion for his sleeplessness. But then somehow he was given modafinil. He told me that the psych eval psychiatrist videotaped him yesterday and he was acting drunk, behaving out of character and talking to people that didn't exist. I'm surprised he wasn't acting worse with this combination of drugs in his system."

"Finally some good news with this," Catherine muttered.

"Not really," Henry told her. "The results came back showing that the triazolam was at a lower level of saturation than the modafinil. He'd had to have taken several doses of the modafinil for that to happen, the last being less than six hours before Ray drew his blood."

"While modafinil can be given intramuscularly, it's rare," Ray added. "These are normally given in pill form. However… I think someone must have given it to him intramuscularly. I think that's why he had a bruise and needle marks on the back of his neck. Two or three low doses, given intramuscular in the same spot, would be absorbed slower. It would cause the state he was in to last longer."

"Sounds like someone really has it out for Nick," Henry said.

"With all the people he's put away, that's neither surprising nor comforting. Ray, go to his place and tell him what you and Henry found. Ask him if you can search his place to make sure nothing took place there. Also, ask him to let you photograph his body for signs of any other marks." Catherine started dialing a number. "In the video he showed Julia a roll of bills, looked like hundreds. See if you two can find it and bring it in for fingerprints and trace."

Ray and Henry left her office.

"This is Greg."

"Greg, I need you to do something for me."

"Name it."

"After you dropped Nick off yesterday, I need you to find out where he went and what happened to him. He might have been at a casino some time between when you dropped him off and four o'clock the day after. After that, we don't know where he was until I went to his house."

"This has to do with the tape, doesn't it?"

"It has to do with the tape. And the fact Henry found an interesting drug cocktail in his blood work."

"How interesting?

"Interesting enough that I'm going to go have a chat with a psychiatrist."

"The other's don't know about his imaginary friend, do they?"

"No. That's still between us three and Ecklie."

"Okay. I'll let you know what I find."

Catherine hung up and stood. She grabbed her coat and headed out the door. She and Julia Green were going to have a little heart to heart.

* * *

Julia Green looked up when Catherine strode into the room. Julia sat up in her chair.

"Can I help you?"

Catherine walked up to the desk, slapping two evidence bags on the desk. One was a prescription bottle; the other had pills from it. She leaned on the desk. This woman playing games with Nicky's sanity and career had brought Catherine to the end of her patience with her and the CSI was in an 'I'm here to kick ass and chew bubble gum' mood.

"My employee is Nick Stokes. This was the prescription bottle the pharmacy says they gave him. It says he's supposed to have one-milligram pills of Ridal. But what was actually in the bottle was Halcion pills in a dosage of point four milligrams. I had a chat with the pharmacy and—"

"You mean Nick did. They called me."

Catherine smiled. "I went back. Didn't they call you the second time? Or maybe it was the warrant for his records that prevented that second call."

Catherine paused, daring Julia to comment.

She continued when Julia didn't. "They tell me that the Halcion was for another patient of yours, Mathew Tucker. You called it in two days ago and said someone was picking it up for him. Someone there, someone whose description they don't know, someone who was there during a time they were all at lunch, someone who gave my employee Mathew's drugs in a bottle labeled for Nick. And then you taped a session with him while he was on this drug and tried to convince the Under Sheriff he was crazy. So my question to you is… How did this get so mixed up? And who do you think was working there when everyone else was gone? And for the record, Nick isn't crazy. He was drugged."

Julia sat back. "I don't know how it got mixed up, and I'm not responsible for the employees at that pharmacy, so I—"

"But Julia, you use that pharmacy for all your prescriptions I asked about it. What's more is that Nick also had modafinil in his blood and we believe it was given to him intravenously by someone who knew how without killing him. Such as yourself, perhaps. From day one, you have had it out for Nick, so you can imagine how suspicious this makes you look now. I'm beginning to wonder if there's some hidden, personal vendetta going on here."

Julia stood up, crossing her arms. "A personal vendetta? Is that what Nick said this is? And that doesn't sound a little crazy to you?"

"Nick never said anything of the sort, actually. I don't think he even has you on his list of suspects – but I do. Every time I turn around you're doing something to him that doesn't make any sense and pushes laws to their limit. It's almost like… Like you don't like him. Is that it? You don't like him? Because he's a cop? Or is it something else?"

"I didn't know Nick until two weeks ago, Mrs. Willows. I hardly think I have any reason to dislike him."

"And yet… your actions say you do. I've told Nick to bring every prescription you give him to the lab. We're going to test every one from here on out. If even one comes back mislabeled or not what you said you were giving him, I'm coming after your license. That okay with you?"

Julia lifted her chin. "Misusing city property? For your own personal vendetta?"

Catherine moved in, looking Julia in the eye. "Nick is a good man and an even better CSI. So yes, that's my vendetta. Misusing city property? To expose and bring down a corrupt and vindictive bitch who is doing anything but helping her patience and over medicating them… You tell whoever you think will listen that I'm misusing city property, but when I present my case, mine will be stronger than anything you have to offer. I will be watching your every move from here on out, Julia." Catherine picked up the bags, turned, and walked out.

Julia glared at the door for a few minutes. She turned, snatching up her desk phone, and making a phone call.

"Hey. We have to meet. I don't care where. We have a problem and we have to figure out how to fix it. Fine. I'll be there." Julia slammed the phone down.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

"Hey, Greg," Jim said as he came into the break room.

Greg looked up from the phone records he was going through. "Hey. How are you?"

Jim sat down across from Greg. "Good. So I hear we have a problem with Nick."

Greg shook his head. "Yeah. I don't even know where to start that conversation. Apparently he was drugged the day before yesterday and he can't remember anything. There was some pretty heavy drugs in his system too."

"Yesterday, about eleven in the morning, an officer had dispatch call me. He'd responded to a disturbance call at the Mirage. Nick got bounced for cheating at poker."

Greg looked up. "At eleven?"

Jim slowly nodded. "I picked him up from the officer and dropped him off at home. I stayed until I was sure he was asleep. I left around two thirty."

Greg pulled a pad of paper from under the papers. There were times and notes jotted on them. He flipped to the net page. "And Catherine said she got there at four. I doubt he left again, so at least that time is accounted for." Greg jotted that down. "Thanks for telling me that."

"I didn't tell you it to account for his whereabouts."

Greg looked up at him. "Then… Why did you?"

"Nick was talking to Warrick from the time I picked him up until he passed out. He said he's been seeing him since the tunnels." Jim smiled. "But something tells me that this probably doesn't come as a surprise to you or Catherine. I'm right, aren't I?"

Greg didn't admit anything.

Jim patted the papers in front of Greg, standing. "Let me know if you need any police for this. I doubt Nick would have willingly gotten doped up. Have a good night, Ace."

Jim left the break room, leaving Greg staring and speechless.

* * *

Nick walked down the hall to Julia's office door and entered. The receptionist, Arlene, smiled at him – at least she was always nice to Nick.

"It'll be just a few minutes."

That surprised Nick. He looked behind him at the chairs, expecting to see Nate and the other two. But he was the only one in the waiting room. He sat down and had just picked up a magazine when Julia's door opened. She looked at the empty chairs, then Nick.

"Come in, Nick."

He sat the magazine down and walked into the room, taking the uncomfortable chair. She started the video camera and sat down. Julia sat her notepad on her lap and then looked up at him.

"You seem more yourself today."

"Yeah. You're on time today. That was nice."

"Do you give your regular therapist as hard of a time as you do me?"

Warrick appeared next to her, telling her, "Greta isn't a complete cunt, so no, we reserve that treatment for people who really piss us off."

Nick looked down. "Trouble as in how?"

"I'm under investigation now because of you. Because of that little stunt you pulled the day before, coming in here on drugs."

Nick looked up at her. "Drugs _you _gave me."

"I did not prescribe you triazolam or modafinil. Your supervisor may believe your lies, but I don't. Where did you get them?"

"The triazolam was in the prescription bottle your pharmacy gave me with my name on it. I have no idea how the modafinil got in my system. I also don't know how I got a needle mark on the back of my neck.

"Perhaps you are an addict."

"I'd tell you to walk out, but she'd probably put you in the corner with a dunce cap if you did that," Warrick told Nick. He leaned back against the wall, shaking his head.

"Julia, I—"

"I spent years earning the title of doctor, Nick."

"Fine." Nick snarled. "Doctor Green, I am not an addict. I did not take any drug other than the ones in the bottle with my _name_ on it that I picked up from the pharmacy _you_ told me to go to. If we aren't going to do something productive in here today, then I think I should leave, don't you?"

Julia leaned forward. "So I suppose you're going to tell me that the dead co-worker you were talking to was because of the drugs?"

Nick nodded. "Have you ever seen me talking to a dead co-worker any other time I've been here?"

"You're hiding something, Nick Stokes. Something that I'm afraid is a danger to yourself, or the people you work with. I'm recommending we extend this for another two weeks."

"You fucking whore!" Warrick bellowed, charging up to her.

"_What_?" Nick stood up. Together he and Warrick and Nick laid into her. "You are a piece of work, woman! Know that? How on earth did you ever get into this line of work? You are rude, you hate people, you hate me, and you don't want anyone to get better. You put people down, you push people around, if I didn't know better, I'd say you did all this just for fun! You are evil. That's the simplest way to put this."

"So you think I'm the reincarnation of something evil?"

"No. That's not possible. I don't think there's anyone out there worse than you."

"My other patients don't think so?"

"How would you know? You probably intimidate them."

"If you don't believe me, ask."

"They aren't here."

"Well you seem good at breaking the law. Find them and ask."

"I will!" Nick got up and walked out, slamming the door behind him.

* * *

Nick stopped his rental car outside a small white house squished between two newly built townhouses. He glanced at the piece of paper in his hand, then up at the house. Nick got out and walked up to the door. He reached out to press the doorbell when he noticed that the door was ajar and it looked like there was a bloody smudge on it. Nick fished his gloves out of his pocket and pulled them on. He pushed the door open and looked inside.

"Hugh?" Nick called.

No one answered. Course maybe Hugh wasn't Hugh today. "Herminie? Or George? Your door was open. Are you home?"

Neither Hugh nor his alternate personalities answered. Nick looked at his rental car, debating what to do. He turned back.

"Hello?" he called again.

Nothing. No answer. Nick walked down the stairs, seeing a narrow gate next to the house and sitting open. He headed to the back. Maybe Hugh, or one of his alters, was in the back yard. Nick found a beautiful garden, the garage, but no Hugh. Nick stopped in the middle of the yard. Did he really hear a car running inside the garage?

Nick walked up to the garage door, but it wouldn't budge. Nick put his ear to the door. He could hear the car running inside. He looked around the side of the garage – the fence blocked access from either side. Nick walked up to the fence and scaled it, dropping into the alley. Through the garage windows he could see a car inside, but it was too dark to see if there was anyone in it. Nick grabbed the door handle and hauled the door open. Half a breath of carbon monoxide made him light headed and start to cough. He stumbled to the other side of the alley, coughing and gasping for air. When he was able to get a full breath, he looked up at the car. Nick walked up behind it – he could see someone inside, but if he squeezed into the garage his clothes would brush against the wall on one side and a work bench on the other side, disturbing potential trace, prints, or shoe impressions.

"Do you really need to see in it to know that's Hugh?" Warrick quietly asked, appearing next to Nick.

"No," Nick answered just as quietly.

"Better go call it in. Nothing you can do here."

Nick nodded, agreeing with his hallucination.

He walked back to the fence and used trashcans to scale over it. Nick walked back to his car and sat down in the front seat. He reached for his cell phone he'd left in the drink holder, but it wasn't there. Nick leaned over to look on the floor for it. Something stung his thigh and he reacted by turning fast to grab it, expecting to see a bee or wasp. Instead he found a postal worker watching him, and no sign of a bee or wasp. The postal worker had a mustache and looked familiar to Nick.

"Do you live here?" the postal worker asked.

"Uhm… No. I just was looking for my phone." Nick wiped his hand over his eyes, trying to fight off the sudden feeling of exhaustion. "Do you have a phone?'

"Yeah."

Warrick leaned in from the back seat. "Nick, drive. Go to a pay phone. Go now."

"Can you call the police? I came to visit a friend that lives there…" Nick stopped to yawn. He was having a hard time fighting off sleep. "His door was open and there's a car running in the garage. I think someone is in it."

The postman looked at the house, then nodded. "Sure."

"Nick," Warrick said, leaning in. "Drive away. Now. Drive!"

Nick turned his head and the world swayed. He tried to focus on Warrick but even his hallucination was blurry.

"What's wrong…" was all Nick could get out before he fell asleep.

* * *

"Nick."

Jim's voice was somewhere far away. Nick was having a hard time pulling himself out of the fog of sleep.

"Nicky, wake up."

He felt a hand on his shoulder. It gently shook him.

"Nick," Warrick's voice called.

"Go away," Nick muttered to both of them.

"We should just get him to the ambulance, Jim," an unfamiliar voice said. "He probably can't even walk."

"He can walk," Jim said.

"Jim, he's so drunk he can't even come around," the unfamiliar voice said.

"Drunk? We aren't drunk," Warrick argued.

"Listen to Warrick. We aren't drunk," Nick mumbled.

"He's not drunk, Pete. This damned psychiatrist put him on some meds and they're hitting him harder than he expected."

"Really? What is he on?" the unfamiliar voice that presumably belonged to Pete, whoever the hell Pete was.

"I don't know."

"Well it must be some good shit, because the guy that found him said he was talking to someone named Warrick and he was still talking to him when I got here."

That woke Nick up. He forced his eyes open but it took him several moments to grasp that he was sitting in his rental car and a telephone pole had smashed in the front of it. When reality hit him, Nick tried bolt out the open door but Jim and Pete – who Nick realized now was a paramedic he should have known – grabbed him and pushed him back.

"Easy. Easy, Nicolas," Jim crooned.

Nick looked in his eyes. "How the hell did I get here?"

"That is a good question. I was really hoping you might be able to tell me. You haven't been drinking, have you?" Jim asked.

Nick shook his head. He looked between them. Two state patrolmen stood behind Jim and Pete. Then he noticed where he was and fear made him start panicking. He was somewhere in the desert and he couldn't remember how he'd gotten here. Somewhere close to Las Vegas he presumed if Jim and Pete were there.

"I don't know how I got here," Nick told Jim, looking into his eyes. "I was in Vegas, parked, talking to a postman. That's the last thing I remember."

"Nick, you're starting to hyperventilate. You need to calm down," Pete told him, crouching down. "Calm down, Nick."

"Yeah. Calm down, man," Warrick told him. Sarcastically he added, "By now, we should get used to finding ourselves in strange places with no memory of how we got there. It's only happened twice in eight days."

Nick looked at him, shooting him a glare.

"Nick, look at me," Jim said.

Nick turned his attention back to Jim. He couldn't let them know about Warrick.

"You were talking to Warrick when a Samaritan found you. Do you remember that?" Pete asked.

Nick shook his head. Even if he had remembered, he wouldn't have admitted it to anyone here.

"Do you know what day it is?" one of the state patrolman asked.

"I last remember it being Thursday"

"Who's the president?"

"Obama."

"Do you know who the Las Vegas Under Sheriff is?"

"Conrad Ecklie."

"Okay, Jim. If he can walk to your car, you can take him. But you have to take him to the hospital to run a drug panel."

"We will. Come on, Nicky." Jim slid his hand around Nick's arm and helped him out of the car.

The two walked to Jim's car and got in. Nick didn't look back at the scene. He was afraid to find out just how bad it looked. The two drove for several miles in silence.

"You okay, champ?" Jim asked.

Nick looked at him. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Warrick sitting in the back seat.

"I don't know how I got there, Jim. That's damn scary."

"Yeah. It would be. Maybe you should stop taking the stuff she gave you."

Nick looked down. Jim seemed to notice.

"Let me guess. You don't remember taking one."

Nick shook his head.

"Aw, Nick." Jim said with a sigh. "That's not good."

Nick looked out the window. "I went to talk to a patient that I always see in Julia's office, to see if she treats him the same way. The front door of his house was open and there was a car running in the garage. I think he was in it."

"How did you get his address?"

Nick looked at Jim, smiling a little. "The phone company puts out these amazing things called phone books. They have people's names, address, phone numbers…"

Jim smiled. "All right, smart alec. I was just making sure you hadn't found him illegally, is all. Did you call it into the police?"

"That's where things get… Lost. I went out to my car to get my cell and it wasn't in there. I turned around and this postman was there. I asked him if he could call the police and that's the very last thing I remember."

Jim's brow dipped into a line that meant he was thinking hard on something. "So… When you were talking to the postman is where your memories stopped?"

"Yeah."

"Where's this place you were at?"

Nick searched his pockets until he found the sheet of paper he'd written down Hugh and Miranda's address. He unfolded it and stared at it, confused by what he saw.

"What is it?"

"I… I could have sworn I only put two people's addresses on here."

"There's no addresses on there?"

"There's three. I have this guy Nate's address too. Doesn't matter. Hugh's address is fourteen twelve Hacienda Avenue."

Jim unfolded his phone and dialed a number. "Yeah. Detective Brass. Have you received a call today for a…" Jim looked at Nick.

"Fourteen twelve Hacienda Avenue."

Jim repeated it and then waited. "You're sure? Can you double check for me? It would have been either under a welfare check or suspicious activity – there would have been a car running in the garage." Jim waited. "Okay. Thanks." He snapped his phone closed. "Nothing was reported. We'll check it out after the hospital."

"I didn't take anything else, Jim."

"I believe you, but let's not start jumping procedure. Don't want someone taking a close look at you right now, not with everything that's been happening."

Nick looked at him. "Everything that's been happening?"

"The vindictive psychiatrist. That incident between you and Catherine a while back. Twice you've been found out of it. I don't think we should give IA something to gnaw on right now."

Nick couldn't agree more. He looked out the window…

#

Nick stared at the empty garage. Jim sighed and Nick looked at him.

"I swear to you the door was closed, there was a car running in this garage, and there was someone inside. The front door of the house was open. I am not making this up!"

Jim looked at him. "You know the rule here. No body, no crime. In this case, no car, no crime."

Nick looked at the garage. "Could you at least put out a bulletin for him? I'd feel better if I knew he was safe."

"You said he's missed two sessions?"

"He wasn't there when I got there."

"Let me do some investigating first, make sure no one else as seen him. If not, we'll put out a missing persons, okay?"

Nick nodded.

Jim clapped him on the shoulder. "Let's go."

Nick didn't move.

"Okay. I'll wait in the car. We'll go when you're ready, Nick." Jim shut the garage door and headed down the alley to his car.

"We both saw it," Warrick said, resting an arm on Nick's shoulder.

"Having your hallucination admit to seeing it doesn't make it feel any less crazy, Warrick," Nick told him, looking at him.

Warrick smiled. "Yes it does."

Nick didn't agree, because he was right. Even if the hallucination wasn't real, it somehow did make Nick feel little better.

"I have to go report the car to the rental company and get another," Nick followed the comment it with a long sigh.

Warrick patted his shoulder. "We'll sort this out."

* * *

Nick walked into Saver's Rental and stopped at the counter. The woman smiled.

"Hi. I had an accident with my car."

The woman's smile vanished. "What kind of accident?"

"The kind that involves a telephone pole imprinted in the engine. I guess I need to fill out the paperwork and rent another. It was through my insurance while my vehicle is being fixed."

The woman turned to a computer. "Name?"

"Nicolas Stokes."

She pulled up something and looked confused. She looked at him. "Sir, you returned your car yesterday."

Nick shook his head with a smile. "No. I didn't. I ran it into a telephone pole yesterday."

"No. You returned it yesterday."

"I didn't return it yesterday. I was driving it yesterday. Right into a telephone pole."

She started to speak, then stopped and smiled. "Wait here, sir."

Nick nodded. He watched her go into the back through the glass dividers to someone at the back. The two spoke, her pointing a lot at Nick, and him looking back and forth. The man turned to a computer, pulled something up, then looked up at her with a confused expression. She apologetically shrugged. The man got up and came to the front.

"I'm Steve, the manager. How can I help you?"

"I ran my car into a telephone pole yesterday and I need to rent another. Why does she think I've returned it? It was supposed to go to the police station, not here."

"Sir, I'm showing you returned your car yesterday morning with no damage to it."

Nick smiled. "That's impossible. I woke up in it so I know it's wrecked."

"Sir, if you woke up in a wrecked car, it wasn't one of ours. You returned yours."

"No. I didn't return mine. I—"

"Reanna said you wanted to rent another car?"

"Yes, but—"

"Did you want a similar car or something different?"

"Whatever my insurance is paying for, but, Steve, I'm really confused about why you think I returned my car."

"It doesn't matter, we'll take care of everything, Mister Stokes. Give me a few minutes to get this put in. Reanna, can you have them bring up the Escort?"

"Steve, I'm really confused here. You show that I brought my car back?"

"Yes, sir. I'll be just a moment."

Reanna and Steve both left the confused CSI standing at the front desk.

* * *

Nick drove slowly along the quiet streets of Shell Beach. It was a new HOA with houses that started in the upper thousands. Each house had a well-watered blue grass yard that begged fro someone to have an afternoon siesta on it and a care or two in the driveways that cost about as much as the homes themselves. Nick finally found the one he was looking for and parked on the street. He got out and strolled up a winding walk to the front door, tapping the doorbell. After a few minutes Nate opened the door, to Nick's relief.

"Hey."

"Hey. What are you doing here?"

"I hadn't seen you for a few sessions and was making sure everything was alright. Miranda and Hugh haven't been there either."

"I'm fine."

Warrick appeared just behind Nick's right shoulder. "Got the feeling he doesn't appreciate you being here, Nicky. Wrap it up and let's check on Miranda."

"Sorry to bother you. I'll check…"

"It's no bother, I'm just not sure how you got my address. I'm unlisted."

Nick stared at him. Unlisted? That couldn't be right. He got the addresses from the phone book. Maybe…

"Yeah, man, how _did_ we get that address?" Warrick asked. "We've checked four different phonebooks and still didn't find him."

"Have you always been unlisted?" Nick asked.

"Yeah."

"I could have sworn I got your address from a phone book. I'm sorry. This has to be a little creepy. Sorry to bother you." Nick turned to go.

"Did you check on Miranda and Hugh too?"

Nick slowly turned, forcing a smile. Warrick was standing behind Nate. He looked up at Nick.

"Careful man," Warrick warned Nick. "Since he first came out he's been acting off, and he never did tell us why he was seeing Julia."

"Yeah. Hugh wasn't home," Nick lied.

"Really? You're going to check on Miranda?"

"Yeah."

"I'll join you. Let me grab my coat and lock up."

Before Nick could argue Nate was back inside. Warrick walked up to Nick, staring back at the door.

"What was that?" Warrick asked.

Nick shrugged. He walked back to his car and got in. He glanced up when Nate came out and trotted up to the car. Nick watched him get in. He glanced in the rear view mirror when Warrick leaned in between the seats.

"Ask him why he wants to go," Warrick pushed.

Nick put the car in gear and started driving. "Why'd you want to go?"

"I hadn't seen them either. Hadn't seen you either."

"But you have your appointment before me."

"She changed the time."

Nick glanced at him. Why was every warning flag in him going off? He'd never distrusted Nate before, why was he now?

"Because we're both wondering who we can trust anymore," Warrick answered as he fell back in the seat.

"You talk more in the waiting room than you do here."

Nick shrugged. "I'm just stressed."

"A cop that's stressed? How does that happen?" Nate said with forced laughter.

Nick smiled. "Criminalist and yeah, can't imagine."

"So what don't you do that cops do?"

"Arrest people. They don't let me have handcuffs."

"They let you carry a gun?"

"Yeah."

"So do you just investigate murders and stuff?"

"No. We investigate other stuff."

"Like what?"

"Anything that needs evidence looked at it."

"Give me some examples."

"Let's see… Robbery, identity theft, embezzlement."

"Fraud?"

Nick nodded.

"So… Are people who commit fraud treated the same as those who killed someone?"

"That's no my call. I just gather the evidence."

"I don't know that's right, really," Nate said, looking out his window.

"And why is that, Nate? You committing fraud?" Warrick snapped. "Nick, take homeboy home and leave him there. He should _not_ be on this ride, man."

Nick ignored them both.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

For the third time, Nick knocked on the door.

"Are you this persistent all the time?" Nate asked.

Nick was wishing he'd listened to Warrick. Nate had questioned every aspect of Nick's job, kept telling Nick how to drive, and repeatedly told Nick maybe he shouldn't bother with Miranda.

On Nick's other side Warrick leaned in. "We know how to kill people and make them disappear. Let's just kill him."

Nick looked at him. Warrick smiled.

"Killing is out. Gottcha. But I really think we should muzzle him with some duct tape."

That made Nick smile. His head whipped around when the door opened. An elderly woman peered out through the crack.

"Hi, ma'am. I'm with… I'm Nick Stokes. I usually see Miranda at—"

"She's not here."

"Do you know when she'll be back?"

"No. She left two days ago and hasn't called."

"She hasn't called or come back?"

"No."

"Any idea where she might be?"

"She went to the lake with her contact. He had instructions for her."

Nick was caught off guard. That sounded just like Miranda.

"Which lake?"

"Mead. Goes to Mead."

"Does she have her own car?"

"Yes."

"Can you tell me what it looks like?"

"Blue." The woman started to close the door.

Nick gently pushed on it. She looked up at him.

"I want to get to her before they do, ma'am. Can you please tell me what the car looks like?"

"They're after her?"

"I think so. I overheard someone at the table behind me today. They were talking about Miranda."

"Oh! Oh no! It's blue. I bought it years ago. Don't remember when. It's a light blue."

"Damn… Were you always that good?" Warrick whispered.

Nick ignored the hallucination – or rather his own self-pride. "Do you know what the license plates say?"

"Tuto."

"Tuto?"

"Tuto." Then the door was slammed shut.

Nick turned, heading back to his car. Nate trotted behind him.

"Do you always do that? Play into them like that?" Nate asked.

"Only if I have to."

"Don't you feel bad about doing it?"

Nick walked around to the driver's side, unlocking the doors. He looked over the top at Nate.

"If it saves and protects lives, no." Nick got in.

"How is stopping a forger saving and protecting lives?"

Nick heaved a heavy sigh and then bellowed with Warrick at Nate, "Is there something you're hiding or trying to tell me here?"

"Nope." Nate got in.

Nick slowly inhaled. "What did you say about killing him?" Nick whispered.

Warrick laughed, leaning over his shoulder. "Too late. You decided not to. Let's go find Miranda and her alien contact."

Nick got in.

"Can we stop at a gas station? I need some water," Nate told him.

"Yeah," Nick answered.

Warrick leaned between them. "Could we leave him there too? I need to get a good laugh in."

Nick had to roll his lips together to keep from laughing. He started the car and drove away.

* * *

Nick was beginning to think he was going to have to call Catherine and ask her to get warrants to search private properties around the lake, but at the next picnic spot he found a blue car. It was boxy late 80's model, and on the license plate was TU0-T0E. Nick stopped his car behind it.

"Uhm… The crazy lady actually gave us the right information."

"Scary, isn't it?" Nick asked.

Nate nodded.

Nick got out and made a full circle around the car. This wasn't tourist season so these areas were rarely used. Locals came out sometimes, and a few off-season tourists, but they were pretty remote. Nick looked out at the lake.

"Nick," Nate called.

Nick looked at him. He was standing at the edge of the parking lot, his bottle of water in hand, staring down the slope at the lake. Nick joined him. He could see a body floating in the water below. Nick started down the bank, hearing Nate right behind him. They reached the body and he grabbed an arm, pulling it on the shore and rolling it over. Miranda's lifeless, cloudy eyes stared up at the sky. Nick closed his eyes for a minute.

"Damnit."

"She's dead," Nate stated.

"Yeah. She's dead."

Nick looked back at Nate. He didn't seem moved by the fact he was staring at a dead body.

"Man, this doesn't bother you?" Nick asked.

Nate looked at him. "Yes. She's dead. I liked her."

Nick wasn't sure about this guy now.

"Water?" Nate asked, holding his bottle out.

Nick headed up the bank. He was growing more and more suspicious of Nate. Nick reached the car and pulled his cell phone out of the cup holder. He turned, watching Nate climb up the embankment to him. Nick dialed Jim's number.

"What's up Nick?" Jim asked.

"I'm at picnic site twelve at Lake Mead and there's a dead body here. Can you send some officers and coroner?"

"Yeah. Why ware you there?"

"I was looking for Miranda. I found her. In the lake."

"Damn. Okay. I'll send them. I'll be there in a bit too."

"Thanks." Nick snapped his phone closed.

"I can't really express emotions," Nate said.

Nick looked up at him. "What?"

"I have problems expressing emotions. That's why I'm seeing Julia."

"You seem fine in the waiting room."

"It's a show. For her. She'd be angry with me if she knew I'd been lying about getting better."

"Yeah. Something tells me she's a vindictive woman."

"She doesn't like you." Nate leaned against the car.

Nick leaned against it too, watching Nate. "Really?"

"Yeah. Since I changed to going in after you, she's always muttering about you when I go in. She really doesn't like you."

"I gathered that."

Nate tipped up his water bottle for a second. He held it out to Nick. Nick took it.

"I can't say that I've seen you in the waiting room when I've left," Nick told him.

"I've been there. Course, when you leave you seem pretty angry, so maybe that's why."

"That woman ticks me off," Nick said. He sipped some of the water and handed it back.

"Naw. I'm done. Thanks."

Nick looked at the last of the water. He didn't want to waste it so he finished it and tossed the bottle into the car.

"She's not very friendly is she?" Nate asked.

Nick shook his head. He grabbed the car when the world suddenly spun. Nick looked up at Nate, realizing he'd put something in the last bit of water. He had to have because Nick had watched him drink most of it on the way out here.

"What did you do to me?" Nick asked.

Nate looked at him. "What?"

The world dipped and swayed. Nick looked down at the gyrating ground.

"What did you put in the water, Nate?" Nick asked.

Nate didn't answer. Nick turned, reaching for his phone. He felt an arm grab him from behind. It tightened around his neck and pulled him back. He tried to fight, but now the world was spinning so fast he couldn't tell what was up or down.

"Nate, what did you do?" Nick demanded.

"Relax," a voice said, and it wasn't Nate's. "Just relax, Nick. It's better that way."

Nick wished he had a choice, but he was fading away faster than he could fight. His knees buckled and the person supported him, lowering him to the ground. Nick rolled onto his back. He couldn't make out features, but he could tell there were three people standing around him and then he fell asleep.

* * *

Jim had left the picnic area Nick said he was at to the police. There was no car, no body, and no Nick. With the events of the past few weeks, he was worried when Nick didn't answer his cell phone. He tried it again but it went straight to voicemail. In the fading daylight, it made him more worried what Nick could be doing if he was drugged again.

Jim's phone rang, but it was Catherine. "Hey, Catherine."

Catherine sounded like she was crying when she started talking. "I checked his house. He's not there. Greg said he's not at Franks or any of their other haunts. Riley and Archie have been over any feeds that would show them routes out to Mead, they have nothing. We don't know where he is, Jim. We can't find him."

"Okay. I have a couple more spots to check here, and then I'll come back to town and see if I can find him. We'll find him, Catherine. I promise, we'll find him."

"You don't know that, Jim. What the hell is going on with him? Is this him? Or is this someone trying to get him? I can't tell anymore!" She started crying.

Jim slowed to pull into a picnic area. He stopped, staring at the golden colored Escort sitting at the back of the parking lot.

"I'll call you back, Catherine." Jim hung up before she could say anything.

Jim parked beside it and got out, walking around to the side. He leaned in, but he couldn't really make out much inside. It was too dark for that. Jim pressed a button on his cell phone to light it up and then used it as a flashlight to see inside. He saw a cell phone sitting in the cup holder that looked like Nick's. There was one way to find out. He dialed his number and within seconds the phone started ringing. Jim hung up, standing up straight.

"NICK!" Jim called, looking around him.

There was no answer.

"NICKY!"

Still nothing. Jim walked to the edge of the parking lot. There was a winding path that went between two giant outcrops down to the water. Jim walked down the path, constantly pressing his phone to light his way. He reached an empty shore. Jim shook his head, turning. He stopped and turned back, looking out in the water. He tried using his flashlight, but that didn't help. He couldn't tell if he was seeing a log or something else out in the water.

"NICKY!" he called.

There was no answer. Jim weighed his options here.

"Better safe than sorry later," Jim told himself and pulled his jacket off.

He stripped down to his undershirt and underwear and waded out into the water. It was warmer than he expected, but still cold enough to take his breath away. He got to his waist before he realized it was a body floating in the water, and much further from shore than he'd thought. Jim started swimming. He could finally tell they were floating on their back. Maybe it was just a swimmer on a midnight swim. Jim stopped and treaded water.

"Hey!" he called out.

The person didn't respond. He kept swimming. The slow current turned the body and he almost went under.

"NICK! NICKY!"

Jim swam faster. He got behind Nick and wrapped an arm under Nick's chin, across his chest and hooked his hand under his armpit. Jim turned and started for the shore. In the dark it was hard for him to make it out and he ended up several feet from his clothes and phone. Jim knelt on the rocky shore and made sure Nick was alive first. There was a wash of relief when he found the man still breathing, although it sounded like he had a little bit of water in his lungs. Jim got up and jogged down to his clothes. He tried to call before he realized he had no service behind the outcrops. He hastily dressed and jogged up the trail until he had service…

* * *

"Nicky," Jim's voice said.

He wanted to wet his mouth, but there was no saliva left to do it.

"Nick, come on, wake up," Catherine's voice urged.

Nick still didn't. It was too hard to pull out of the sleep he was in.

"Give him a few more minutes. It was a hefty dose."

Nick opened his eyes, staring at the ceiling first. Then he stared at Jim's face. Then Catherine's. About the time Doctor Ian walked up to the bed he realized he was in the emergency room of Sunrise.

"Why am I here?" Nick asked.

"Most people ask where," Ian said. He pulled out a penlight and flicked it in and out of Nick's eyes.

Nick shivered. He realized he was cold.

"I'll have a nurse bring you more blankets," Ian said. "Do you remember how you got in the lake?"

"What?" Nick asked. He shook his head. "What?"

"You weren't at the picnic site you said," Jim told him. "When we finally found your rental car, we found you floating in the lake. Face up, luckily."

"No. That's all wrong," Nick started to get off the bed.

"Just relax, Nick. Relax," Catherine urged him, pushing him back on the bed. "You overdosed on your pills."

"No!" Nick sat up, trying to push her away. "I did not overdose on anything. I want out of here."

Nick started to slide down the bed to get off but Ian stopped him.

"Nick, you should stay. You can't drive," Ian told him.

"Nick, stop. Stop it." Catherine grabbed his upper arm. "Just stop for a minute."

Nick listened, looking back at her. Warrick appeared behind her and Nick's eyes drifted to him.

"She's just looking out for you. Relax. If the body's missing, you ain't going to find it without help, right?" Warrick asked.

"Guys, can you give us a few minutes," Catherine asked.

"Sure." Jim left.

Ian hesitated a moment. Catherine looked up at him. He was watching Nick's face.

"What are you looking at, Nick?" Ian asked.

Nick looked at him, speechless. He wasn't even aware Ian was watching him.

"Doc, you were going to tell me about the blood work, right?" Jim called.

Ian left. Nick moved to the edge of the bed, gripping the edge. Catherine leaned against it, watching his face.

"It's been a pretty rough couple weeks, hasn't it?" she asked.

He solemnly nodded. She patted his knee.

"For both of you," she softly added. "How's he been through all this?"

Nick looked at her. "Himself."

She smiled. "I guess that's something." She moved in front of him, pushing her hands in her hip pockets. He looked at her and felt tears starting to well up.

"I'm not crazy," Nick whispered, signaling the first few to fall.

She leaned forward, wrapping her hands around his shoulders. She looked him in the eyes.

"No. You aren't. You know it. I know it. So what exactly has been happening to you?"

"I don't know." Nick closed his eyes. He fell on his side on the bed, staring at the wall. "I feel crazy."

She sighed, her hands returning to her pockets again. "I'm sure. Jim told me that you were looking for some patients that also saw Julia, and you think something's happened to one, and another is dead. Tell me about that."

"Hugh, Miranda, and Nate are the patients. I went to Hugh's house two days ago, before I wrecked the rental car. I—"

"You didn't wreck a rental car and we don't know whose car you were in," Catherine told him.

Nick looked up at her. "What?"

"The car you rented was returned. They don't know by who. They came to work and it was parked in front. They got a call from a man later that morning who said the keys were under the seat. They thought it was you. The car is the same make, model and color as the rental car, but it came back belonging to a company that doesn't exist."

Nick put his hand over his face, growling in frustration. He dropped it. "The manager came out when I came back to rent a car and I'd told him I'd wrecked mine. I thought he was just dim or something, because he kept telling me that my car was returned in good condition."

"That's why. We weren't able to get it before they washed and detailed it though. When we processed it we only found hairs and prints from them. We didn't even find your hairs – which I find odd. They don't usually do that good at detailing rentals."

"Not usually, no."

"So what happened today?"

"This morning I went to Nate's house and he was home. He invited himself along to check on Miranda. She wasn't home, some old lady was. She said Miranda went to Lake Mead, so I went out to look for her. I found the car that the lady described, and Miranda was in the water. She was dead. So I came up and called—" Nick looked at him. "I did call Jim, didn't I?"

"Yes."

Jim came back as Nick continued. "Then we were waiting. Nate told me this excuse about why he wasn't surprised or upset to see a dead body. I remember talking to Nate at the car and then I woke up here." Nick looked over his shoulder at Jim. "Was my rental still there?"

"Yeah, but all the doors were locked, your phone was inside in the cup holder, and you were in the lake."

Nick sat up, hugging his legs. "I've never had a lot of meds—"

Warrick appeared at the foot of the bed, leaning on it. "You didn't take the meds this time, Nicky."

"—but it's not like me to go take—"

"You and I both know how you got that overdose. You remember this. Think."

"…ing…" Nick stared at him. His mind was slowly finding the puzzle pieces and assembling them.

"What is it? What's wrong?" Jim asked.

Jim glanced where Warrick was, but he would never see him. Not even Catherine could, had she looked.

"Nate drugged me."

It took Jim and Catherine a moment to react.

"Nate drugged you? Are you sure?"

Nick nodded, looking at her. "He had a bottle of water and he offered me a drink at the lake. I didn't take one at first. I went back and called Jim. Then he offered it again. I drank some. He told me he didn't want the last of it, so I finished it. It wasn't that much and…" Nick thought hard. "It had a metallic taste. I didn't think about it. Sometimes water tastes like that."

Catherine looked at Jim.

"Do you have his address still?" Jim asked.

Nick moved around, searching his pocket. He found the soggy paper he'd written the addresses down on and carefully unfolded it. But what he found was another sucker punch to his reality. Nate's address wasn't on the paper. He held it out to Jim, staring at it.

"I thought there were three people you were checking up on?" Jim asked.

"Yeah. There were. I had three addresses on here."

Catherine held her hand out for the paper and turned it, looking at the addresses. When she squinted her eyes a little, he knew she saw something he didn't.

"I'm going to take this with me. Can you remember how to get to the houses without the addresses?"

Nick nodded until she looked up.

"Okay. Wait with Jim, and don't give Ian trouble. He's pulled a double and he's in a bad mood. Okay?"

"Yeah."

"Jim, see what you and Nick can get out of interviews. There is something really strange happening here, and I think we're only seeing the tip."

Catherine leaned in, looking into his eyes. "You, Nick, are not crazy. Understand me?"

He nodded.

"You guys take care." She used her eyes to motion to the end of the bed, where she suspected Warrick was standing.

He wasn't, he'd moved behind her.

"Yeah," Nick answered.

Catherine patted the back of his neck and left.

Jim sighed, sitting down in a chair. "So you've been following the NCAA tournament on your unofficial vacation. Tell me what's been going on."

Nick smiled. It was good to have his mind taken off how insane his life was right now. He didn't even notice that Warrick had vanished.

* * *

Nick watched the houses pass, then the sign for Shell Beach.

"Look alive over there, Nicky," Jim told him.

Nick sat up, glancing in the rear view mirror. Warrick had appeared at the first light after they left the hospital, but he just sat there. Nick wondered if that had to do with how numb his mind felt right now. He wanted his life back to where it had been, months ago, before he'd ever followed a blood trail into the maintenance tunnels, before he began seeing Warrick all the time.

"That one," Nick said, pointing at the house.

Jim pulled up to the curb. "Stay here."

"Jim, I—"

"Do you want my help with this?"

Nick stared at him. Jim had already put his foot in the middle of Nick at the hospital, explaining that Nick would wait in the car while Jim talked to the people. Period.

Nick nodded.

Jim got out and walked up the winding walk to the door. Nick pinched the bridge of his nose and rubbed his eyes. He really should have went home and slept a few hours – like Ian tried to convince him to do – but he was desperate to get answers. Any answers.

"We'll get them," Warrick reassured him.

Nick dropped his hand, looking across the street. "I'm having doubts."

"You've been through hell, Nicky, so it's okay to have doubts. But that's why we're letting Jim and Catherine and everyone help us. They'll help kick the shit out of the doubts."

Nick laid his head back against the seat. Sleep was pulling him under whether he wanted it to or not. Nick glanced at the steering column to make sure Jim had taken his keys, and then hit the door lock. Only then did he feel safe enough to close his eyes. Just for a little bit.

Nick jerked awake when the car came to a sudden stop. His hands flew out, grabbing for the dash, but the seatbelt stopped him first. He looked at Jim, who was staring at him.

"You were talking in your sleep."

"I was?" Nick asked.

"Yeah. You and Warrick were having a lively conversation about what's been going on lately."

"I think he knows, Nick," Warrick said, leaning over Nick's left shoulder.

Nick looked down, muttering, "Just a dream."

"Okay, well, I have really bad news about Nate's house, Nick."

Nick braced himself. "What? He never went with me?"

"Nate doesn't live there. At all. No one by the name of Nate lives there."

That was the last thing Nick expected. In unison he and Warrick argued, "We talked to him there, Jim. We picked him up from there. He sat in the car with us!"

"We?"

"Me. I talked to him."

Jim nodded. "Sorry, Tex, they said Nate doesn't live there. I'll have to see what I can find on him when we get back to the station. Point me to Miranda's house."

Nick slouched in the seat, looking out the window. He didn't want to do this anymore.

"Forget it. Take me home."

"Nick."

Nick rolled his head, staring at Jim. Jim stopped at the next red light and looked him in the eye.

"Where is Miranda's house?"

"What is _she's_ not there? What then? I just look even more crazy?" Nick looked out the window. The light had changed anyway.

Jim pulled over suddenly. Nick looked at him. He sat for a few minutes, staring down the road and Nick couldn't tell if he was angry or just upset. He looked at Nick.

"You are not crazy."

Nick couldn't speak. Why was Jim saying that?

"Do you hear me, Nick?"

Nick slowly nodded.

"Things are little messed up, but I don't believe for one second you got that hyped up on drugs. That's not you. Ever. I feel like there's something strange going on with this case and with you. And when we get to the bottom of it, and we will, Nick, then life can get back to some sort of normal. Okay?"

Nick nodded.

"Now, sit up and tell me where Miranda's house is."

"Yes, dad," Warrick commented.

Nick obeyed. "Go down to Rodeo."

Jim pulled back into traffic. Nick slid down some. Why did he feel like his dad had just chewed on him for something that felt unimportant?

"Cuz he has that whole dad thing going for him. Always has," Warrick answered.

Nick smiled, glancing over his shoulder. He noticed Jim watching him and dropped the smile as he looked out his window. He felt Jim watching him for several blocks and realized he might have just slipped up. Again.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Nick watched Jim and the old lady. She'd shut the door four times but this last time he'd managed to get her to keep it open a little longer.

"What do you think they're talking about?" Warrick asked.

"How crazy I am," Nick mumbled, looking out the window.

"Nick! You aren't. Stop being such a dick about this."

"Says the dead man who can't shut up."

Nick looked at the driver's door when it opened and Jim got in. He heaved a sigh and started the car.

"Bad news or really bad news?"

"I don't fucking care," Nick said, looking away.

Jim smacked Nick's arm hard.

Nick looked at him. "What was that for?

"Language."

"What?"

"Watch your language, Stokes."

"When has language ever—" Nick stopped when a smile spread across Jim's face. He shook his head. "You are one evil man, know that?"

"I know. I'm told that often. So which did you want?"

"I don't care. I'm sure neither will make me feel better."

"Well, Miranda Thornton isn't dead. As a matter of fact, she's alive and well in that house."

"That woman is crazy."

"Says the man seeing a dead man," Warrick teased from the back seat, but Nick ignored him.

"Yes, but her driver's license isn't. I wrote down the number just to double check, but I'm pretty sure that's her."

"That's not the Miranda Thornton I know, Jim."

"I know that. So here's what I was thinking. You go home and you lock all your doors and windows. Get some sleep, without pills." Jim looked at him. "Got that?"

Nick nodded.

"Then come down to the station tomorrow and I'll set you down with Archie to get us some composites. Then we'll see what we can dig up."

Nick nodded. The two didn't speak again until they reached Nick's driveway. Nick grabbed the door handle, but stopped, looking back at Jim.

"Thanks, Jim."

"Yeah? What for?"

"I think I needed this today. To work and have someone smack me around a little."

"Let me know any time you need some smacking around. I'll be happy to help there."

Nick laughed.

"I'm watching you walk to that door. Go."

Nick got out and went into his house. He turned, locking the door handle and dead bolt lock. He heard Jim's car pull away and suddenly felt completely alone.

Warrick appeared at his left, staring at the locks. "Better check the windows and back door."

Nick nodded but he didn't move.

"Come on, Nick," Warrick said, turning and walking away.

Nick turned, finding himself alone. He started checking locks.

* * *

Ronnie Litre knocked softly on the doorframe, getting Catherine's attention. She was on the phone and held her finger up. He walked in, standing at the edge of her desk.

"Okay, Jim. Let me know what you find. Thanks."

Ronnie held out two plastic bags. One had the piece of paper Nick had given Catherine in the hospital; another had a case file page she'd pulled.

"What did you find?" Catherine asked.

"These addresses are really good forges." Ronnie sat the page down and moved around next to Catherine. He leaned on the desk, laying the paper down. "The ink looks the same at a glance, but under the microscope I was able to detect a difference between these top two and the last one. It was added with a different pen. I figured Nick might have—"

"I didn't say this was Nick's."

"This case file is. I remember a piece of evidence on it." Ronnie tapped the page, and then continued with the piece of paper. Catherine didn't argue, she didn't care if he knew whose writing this was right now. "I figured Nick might have used two pens, so I had to really look. I mean, whoever wrote this second one is a very talented forger. But I finally found it here on the E and the numbers 2 and 5. There's hesitation marks. Then see this T?"

Catherine nodded.

"I've seen Nick's handwriting for years and I know all the subtle changes he has in his handwriting, but this is not his lower case T. His always slants slightly to the left, even when he's tired. This T is too straight, too… forced. These are all slight imperfections, so subtle I had to really dig, so whoever wrote this either knows Nick's writing or is an outstanding forger."

"Thanks, Ronnie." Catherine took the envelope, staring at the paper.

"Catherine?"

"Hmm?"

"Nick's okay, isn't he?"

She looked up at him. "Yes. Why?

"Why would someone forge an address in his hand? You never told me where you got it and why it was wet."

Her phone began ringing.

Catherine smiled. "He had a bit of an accident, that's all. He's fine."

Ronnie offered a smile and left. Catherine looked at the paper. She picked up her cell phone without looking and flicked it open.

"Willows."

"Come to the garage," Greg told her and hung up.

Catherine picked up the two bags and slipped them in a drawer, then locked it before heading to the garage.

#

Wearing overalls, Greg was standing at a computer that was running a comparison on a print. She was surprised to see Nick's previous rental car sitting on blocks and the tires removed.

"What do you have?"

Greg held up two small plastic bags. "I have two blonde hairs." He sat it down. "And I got creative, like you told me to. This car has an air filtration so I pulled it." Greg wagged his hand in the direction. "Wendy's coming to pick those up." Greg turned and walked to the car. He opened the driver's side door and then laid down on the garage floor. He pulled his maglight from a pocket and shined it up. "Tell me, how do you think a fingerprint got on the grease down here by the hinges?"

Catherine laid down next to him, looking at it. "It didn't come back to Nick I take it."

"No. Or any of the rental car employees." Greg looked at her. "And you will never guess what I found when I pulled the wheels and scraped out the mud."

"There was mud?"

"Yeah. Luckily it was overlooked by the employees."

"What did you find?"

Greg climbed to his feet and walked back over to the bench. She followed him. He turned and held up a plastic capped vial with a tiny syringe inside. Catherine took it, looking at the markings on the side. It was only four millimeters and small enough it could…

"It could have fit in the palm of a postman," Catherine finished her thought out loud.

"My thoughts exactly. It has a nice print on it too. I'll run it next."

"Good job, Greg. Let me know anything you find." Catherine sat the envelope down and turned to leave.

Greg touched her elbow, getting her to turn back.

"During all this, I've heard when he's been drugged he's been talking to Warrick. The others are starting to talk – lab techs and the other CSI."

"I know. I've been asked about it. I've just told him we don't really know what being on those drugs would really do to someone, and Nick misses him more than most of is. They were best friends."

Greg smiled. "Good cover. I'll use it."

"You two are too, Gregg-o." She patted his arm and left, heading to the A.V. lab.

Nick and Archie sat at the composite computer. Archie was playing a game on his phone while Nick was slowly adding and removing features to a female face. Archie looked up and tried to act like he wasn't playing.

"Hi… Catherine."

Nick just glanced back.

"Don't let Ecklie catch him doing this, Archie. He'll go off about protocol. Nick, I need you to also do a composite of the postman."

"What postman?"

"The one you saw outside of Hugh's house."

Nick looked up at her. "Why?"

"Greg and I have a hunch he might have something to do with you being drugged there. I want to talk to him."

"I could go to the post office and find him."

"Nick, play the victim, okay? Don't argue with me."

Nick smiled. It grew a little more when Warrick popped up behind her and laughed, saying, "She's got her sights on a suspect and you better not get in her way. She'll beat you up!"

Catherine smiled, shaking her head. "Well you two…" With a slight head nod she motioned over her shoulder where Nick had glanced, "Play nice. Be the victim. Don't make me have to lock you away until we figure this out."

"You'd lock me away? Me? I'm your favorite here."

"Uh-uh," Archie said. "That's me. You fail."

Nick laughed, smacking his arm. Archie grinned. Catherine turned and left the lab.

In the hall, when she found herself alone, she muttered, "Warrick, watch his back. Someone is out to get him."

Neither Nick nor Catherine saw Warrick standing down the hall, watching her. He smiled, looking at Nick.

"I've always got it, Catherine. Always," Warrick quietly answered.

* * *

Jim walked into the office and stopped at the desk. He showed Arlene his badge.

"I need to speak to Julia Green."

"She's with a client," the woman told her.

"I'll wait then."

"She's going to be with clients until three."

Jim looked at his watch. "I'll read some magazines. I need to speak to her."

"Can I tell her what it's about?"

"Sure. Tell her that I'm trying to figure out how a man who had no problems when he came in here, is suddenly having all kinds of problems, and she seems to be making them worse." Jim walked over to a chair and sat down.

He flashed a smile at the woman on his left as he picked up a magazine from a side table and settled back for a wait.

But it was shorter than he expected. Julia came out, walking right up to him.

"Is this about Nick?" she demanded.

Jim sat the magazine on his lap, looking up at her.

"It is."

"He missed his appointment today. I'm going to have to—"

"That's right. He did. His supervisor and myself have decided we want him to stop coming until we get a few things cleared up. Starting with why you're treating him like a criminal all the time."

"Is that what he told you about me?"

"Let's see…" Jim pulled out a notebook. "Do you deny prescribing him an anti-psychotic, asking for him to release his session notes from his personal therapist, and videotaping your sessions with him without his permission?" Jim looked up at her. "And think really hard before you answer that last one, because you sent some pretty damning proof of it to his supervisor and the Under Sheriff."

"He asked for something to help him sleep, and I—"

"The way I hear it is you gave it to him without him asking."

Her jaw flinched a couple times. "I wanted the notes so we could just get started and not start from the beginning."

"For a psych eval? Lady, I've had few in my time, and they never required anything from any previous doctor."

"I was being thorough."

"What you were being is damn near breaking the law. I notice you haven't even mentioned the taping."

"He was acting suspicious. I felt it was safer."

"That's not what you told him, or his supervisor, or the Under Sheriff. As a matter of fact, you don't seem to be able to come with a lot of really good answers for anything you've done."

"I don't have to explain my practice."

Jim stood up, looking her eye to eye. "Yes. You do. Because since he's started seeing you, he's begun acting suspicious." Jim held up a finger when she opened her mouth to reply. "And Greta, his personal therapist, never made him act like that. So the only thing that's changed is you."

"I'm to blame for his behavior."

"Directly, I don't think so. But I have a hunch you're somehow implicated in it. Say," Jim looked at his notebook again. "Can you tell me whatever happened to Nate Hutchins, Miranda Thornton, and Hugh Kallen?"

"What?"

"Aren't they patients of yours?"

"No."

"No?"

"No. They are people Nick believes exist, but they are not patients of mine."

Jim stared at her. Julia was very conniving and vindictive. Did he believe her accusation, or did he believe Nick?

"Do you record all your sessions?" Jim asked.

"Yes."

"So if I went back two weeks and looked at the patients you had before Nick, you're telling me I wouldn't see Nate Hutchins, Miranda Thornton, or Hugh Kallen?"

"That is correct."

"Prove it."

"I'm not releasing my session tapes to you. And you can't ask me too."

"You asked Nick."

"That's Nick's call."

"It's was Nick's choice."

"Oh. It was his choice. So that's why you asked for his suspension and tacked on two, then three, then four weeks onto his psych eval. Because _he_ asked you to?"

"Nick is a great danger to himself and others, officer."

"Detective, Doctor. I worked hard to get that title."

Jim noted the intense anger that flashed across her face.

"How do you figure he's a danger, Doc?"

"He is making you believe in his hallucinations. Has he told you about the dead co-worker he talks to? And now he has you believing I have patients that I don't have. He isn't safe to be on his own anymore. I have no choice to have him committed."

"There is nothing wrong with him and you know it."

"He is a danger to himself and others. And now he's trying to make others believe his hallucinations and paranoia. For his own good, I have no choice."

"You can't do anything without a hearing. Even you know that."

Julia turned and walked back into her office. Jim wasn't sure if he should believe that threat or not. He noticed Arlene trying to not watch him. He walked up to the desk and she glanced nervously at him.

"Does she have patients by the name of Nate Hutchins, Miranda Thornton, and Hugh Kallen?" Jim asked.

"I'm sorry. I can't discuss anything with you."

Jim nodded. That's what he thought she would say. He put his notebook away, and then pulled out a business card, handing it to her.

"If you suddenly find your guilty conscience can't handle it anymore, give me a call." Jim walked out, bottling his anger for the moment.

* * *

Greg and Langston walked into the post office and found themselves at the end of a long line.

"Time to make new best friends among Las Vegans," Greg said, and then pulled his ID. He held it up as he passed people to get to the front.

Langston followed him, returning a smile to everyone who glared at them. Greg reached the end of the line and waited for the woman being helped to finish. She left and the postwoman looked up at Greg. He put his ID down in front of her. His phone started ringing suddenly. He ignored it, focusing on his investigation.

"We need to speak to the manager."

"Regarding what?" she asked.

Langston pulled a composite out and held it up for her. "Him."

She looked at the picture, then left to get the manager.

#

The three were surrounded by post office boxes. The manager, Tim, stared for a long time at the composite before he shook his head.

"No. I'm sorry, this isn't one of my people."

"This office does service fourteen twelve Hacienda Avenue."

"Yes."

"This man was dressed as a postman. He spoke to another CSI, said he was going to call the police."

"I'm sorry, this isn't any of my people."

"Could you show it around and see if anyone recognizes him?" Greg asked.

"I could. A lot of my postmen are on runs though."

Greg retrieved a business card from his wallet. "Call us if anyone recognizes him."

Tim took it, nodding. "I will. Sorry I couldn't help."

The two turned and walked away. Outside Greg pulled his phone out and played the waiting voicemail. He stopped in the middle of the parking lot. Langston turned to suggest their next move but stopped. Greg had paled and looked like he'd just been told he was going to die.

"What's wrong?" Langston asked.

Greg looked at him. "Julia was just granted an involuntary court-ordered admission for Nick."

Langston felt like he had just been told he was going to die.

* * *

Nick opened the door on the second knock, finding Catherine standing on his doorstep. Behind her were two officers: Jeremy and Roger. He was surprised to see the three of them together. They were never together except during…

"This cannot be good," Warrick said behind Nick.

"What's… Going on?" Nick asked.

"Nicky, go get your shoes on and lock up.

Nick looked at the officers, then Catherine. "Why?"

Catherine closed her eyes. She looked half sick.

"Please, Nicolas, just—"

"What is going on?" Nick demanded.

Catherine turned to the officers. "We'll only be a few minutes, guys."

"We'll give you five, then we have to go, Catherine," Jeremy told her.

The two left, walking back to wait at their squad car. When Nick looked at Catherine, she held his eyes.

"Julia was awarded an emergency involuntary court-ordered admission on grounds you are a harm to yourself and others, and have refused to submit to treatment. She sited that you've confused drugs, has admitted to taking another persons prescription, you've blacked out while driving, you were found in a lake with a near lethal dose of Halicon in your system, and you are actively hallucinating. I know you're friends with Roger and Jeremy, so I asked if they would take you to Northern Las Vegas Mental Institute."

"No. I'm not…"

"Nicky, you have to go. This is an emergency admission."

"If I go, she's going to find some way to keep me there, Catherine! She's winning. I'll never get out!"

"She is not winning. We are not going to let her win, do you hear me? We, I, am going to do everything I can to get you out. I swear to you, Nicolas. I will not abandon you. Do you hear me? I'm not going to abandon you."

Nick forgot to breathe. He didn't hear her promises, her pledge of friendship. He backed away when she reached out to take his hand.

"Don't. Nick… Don't fight. Don't run. I assured them we could pick you up without any complications. Please don't make me a liar and make this worse."

"Worse? WORSE!? You're not about to be locked away in a crazy house! And you know, you know, Catherine, she's going to find some way to keep me there. She's always two steps ahead!"

Catherine stepped inside and grabbed his arms before he could pull away. She looked in his eyes.

"Stop it, Nick! You're acting just like she wants you to. You are going to get a grip right now. You are going to calm down. You are going to walk out there to that police car. We are not going to give her fuel to do anything to you. If you fight this, if you try to run, you will be playing right into her hand. We can't do that. Do you hear me? You leave the fight up to me and I swear on my daughter's life I will not stop until you are free, Nick."

Nick started crying. "But I am crazy. They're going to find out I am if I get locked in there," he whispered.

Catherine gently enveloped him in a hug, letting him cry on her shoulder. "No. Nick, you're not."

"I am," he whispered. "I'm walking around seeing a dead man. It won't take them long to figure it out in there. I'm going to be locked in there forever."

Catherine closed her eyes, squeezing tighter. "No you're not. I don't believe that for a second."

Nick would never know how much it killed her to have to do this, knowing full well there was nothing wrong with him.

* * *

Word of Nick being committed spread fast through the lab. It hit the break room about the time Hodges and Archie had just sat down to eat.

"Did you hear?" Wendy asked. "You can't stop to eat. You have to help us."

"I'm starving," Hodges whined. "Whatever it is can—"

"That bitch psychiatrists had Nick committed."

The two stared at her.

"When?" Archie asked.

Hodges asked, "How?"

"She's a conniving witch that's wasting oxygen is how. Catherine and two officers picked him up an hour ago. We have to figure out what's going on with him. Come on."

Archie left his meal, but Hodges wasn't so fast to move. He looked at his frozen dinner, then out the door. Lab techs and CSI were rushing, trying to find anything they could to get Nick out. Hodges looked over at Archie's forgotten ham, cheese, and lettuce sandwich. And lettuce…

An epiphany sent Hodges running from the break room.

* * *

"What do you mean he's committed?" was the first think Ecklie snapped when he appeared in the door of Catherine's office.

He was wearing a sweatshirt, sweats and worn sneakers. He had probably been dead asleep when she'd left the voice mail about Nick.

Catherine was on the phone and signaled him to wait.

"He just got here, Greta. I'll call you back as soon as we finish talking." Catherine hung up. "Doctor Green somehow got an emergency involuntary court-ordered admission on grounds that Nick is an extreme danger to himself and others."

"From who?"

Catherine opened a folder next to her and pulled out the judgment. "Looks like it's Judge Harper."

"Judge Harper is a supreme justice. Why would he be signing an admission order?" Ecklie held his hand out.

She handed it over. He stared at it and she half expected that would be the end of it.

"We're looking into—"

"This was a fax?" Ecklie asked.

"Yes. They usually are, Conrad."

He didn't acknowledge her sarcasm. Instead he held the paper against the light. "Did anyone receive the original? Do you know?"

"No. I don't know. What do you see?" She stood and joined him.

Ecklie pointed at some marks on the paper. "These dots here."

"Could have happened in transmission."

"Could have. And this signature…" Ecklie lowered it, staring at the signature. "Something about it doesn't look right. Keep working on whatever else you have and keep me updated. I'm going to have a talk with Judge Harper." He headed out the door.

"Conrad, it's two in the morning!"

He didn't come back.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Riley was testing the power of her dual core Pentium with everything she was expecting it to do. In the background she was running search on the names of the three people Nick said were patients of Julia's. She was searching every news source In Nevada and the neighboring states, looking for anyone who matched Miranda's description and whose death had been determined as a drowning.

She was also trying to track down Julia's history, but so far she wasn't getting very far.

A screen popped up suddenly, identifying a Jane Doe found in a lake near Carter, California. Family had identified her as Miranda Estevez. Riley pulled up the picture and then put it next to Nick's composite of Miranda; they were a visual match. Riley pulled up a phone book and found the number for the M.E. office in Carter. She grabbed a desk phone and dialed it.

On the third ring a man answered. "Carter Crypt of Horrors. Howie speaking."

Riley was thrown for a second. "Hi. My name is Riley Adams. I'm with the Las Vegas Crime Lab. I was calling about a Jane Doe you recently had identified as Miranda Estevez."

"She's been claimed. You'll have to find another drowned girl."

"Uh… No. I'm curious if there were any signs of a struggle on the body? This is the M.E., isn't it?"

"I am and there were ligature marks on her wrists and ankles. Were you just feeding me lucky guesses?"

"No. Was there fluid in the lungs? Was it consistent with the lake she was found in?"

Howie hesitated. "There was fluid in the lungs, but whether it was from this lake or not, I don't know. I'd have to ask the guys uptown if they actually tested it. Are you thinking this girl was drown somewhere else?

"Someone identified her body at Lake Mead. When police went to the scene, there was no body. The picture in your newspaper matches the composite."

"So you think she was killed there?"

"Yes. I do."

"Hm. Well, the chief comes in at eight. I'll talk to him and see if he's interested in helping. We'll go from there."

"Thank you. Do you need my number?"

Riley looked up when Catherine stopped next to her, looking at the picture and composite. Riley watched her look away, despite the relief that her face showed.

"Go ahead, little lady."

Riley smiled. "702-555-6436."

"Okay. Give you a call later. Have a good night."

Howie hung up before Riley said good-bye.

"Are you okay?" Riley asked Catherine.

"We have a match to Miranda?"

"The composite and photograph look the same. I don't know for certain yet."

"Good work. Let me know if you find Hugh or Nate."

Riley nodded, watching her leave. She turned back to the computer.

* * *

The police car stopped outside the front door of Northern Las Vegas Mental Health, and Jeremy and Roger got out. Roger opened the door, watching Nick. He sat in the middle of the seat, staring at the floor. He hadn't moved or spoke the entire trip, and he didn't show any signs of moving or speaking now, either.

"Come on, Nick. I don't want to have to drag you out," Roger told him.

"I don't belong here," Nick argued.

Roger looked over the top of the car at his partner. Jeremy opened his door and crouched down.

"Nick, we aren't giving up on you. You know that, right? But it's a judgment. If it was either one of us and you got that judgment, you know you'd have to follow through with it until you could clear us. You know that, right?"

He didn't answer.

"Please don't make this harder on us. Do you think we really wanted to drive you over here?"

Nick closed his eyes and inhaled a deep breath. For once he wished Warrick would show up when he felt like he really needed him, like right now, but he hadn't shown up since yesterday. He slowly slid toward Roger. Jeremy waited until he was out to close the door and went in. The three walked up the steps to the door and inside. The front desk was a wide room with doors on either side. Safety glass protected separated the nurses inside from everyone else.

"We're here with Nicolas Parker Stokes," Jeremy said.

The woman he spoke to looked at Nick, then down at his hands.

"He came willingly," Jeremy explained before she could ask.

"No I didn't," Nick muttered.

Jeremy laid his hand on Nick's elbow, subtly telling him to be quiet. Jeremy took the papers she pushed through the opening, signed them, and pushed them back. Nick watched two orderlies come out and he almost bolted.

"Don't do it, Nicky. Don't run," Warrick said, appearing next to Nick. "This too will pass."

Nick let one take his arm and the three headed for the door. It opened and he balked suddenly, pulling back.

"Come on," one of the men told him.

"Just give me a minute."

"No. Come on," he pulled harder.

"Hey!" Roger said, suddenly at Nick's side. "Relax, man. How'd you like getting locked up against your will? Huh?"

The orderlies backed off. Nick wanted to thank Roger, but he was terrified. Only being buried alive could be worse than being locked away and knowing you shouldn't be. His legs were frozen on this side of the door.

"Nicky, man, you have to go. Believe us, we aren't giving up on you. Don't…" Roger looked at the two orderlies, shooting daggers at them. "Don't give these guys any reason to hurt you. Just be calm."

Nick looked up at Roger. The officer smiled, patting his shoulder.

"Calm," Nick repeated.

Roger nodded. "Make it happen, Nick."

Nick closed his eyes, fighting with his fear.

"You aren't doing this alone, Nick," Warrick moved through the door and waited for him on the other side. "We will get through this. Just take a deep breath, let it out, and walk through this door. No one has abandoned you."

Nick walked through the door…

* * *

Riley came off the elevator and looked up when the daytime receptionist, Gina, stood, holding out a folder.

"These came for you," Gina said.

Riley shuffled the folders she was holding and took it, skimming it.

"Will it help save Nick?" Gina asked.

Riley looked up at him. "I hope so."

"He doesn't deserve to be in there. I hope so." Gina sat down, looking at something with a hurt, lost look.

"Me too, Gina." Riley headed off to her desk.

She dumped the other folders and started reading this one. She was engrossed in what she was doing and didn't hear Greg come in.

"What do you have?" Greg asked.

She looked up at him. "I found Miranda, the one Nick saw. But her last name is Estevez, not Thornton. According to this," she looked up when Greg sat down on the edge of her desk next to her, "she was a patient at a home for mentally disabled. She had a job assembling toys at a nearby factory and she was doing well. Then, one night, she just disappeared from the house. The other thin Nick got right, she was a paranoid schizophrenic, but according to the interviews from the nurses at the home and her family, she wasn't as bad as he said when she was on her medicine."

"So there's a chance she wasn't on it."

Riley shook her head. "Not a trace when they tested her blood. They also did a workup on the water in her lungs and noted it didn't match the lake she was found in."

"What are the chances it'll match Lake Mead?"

"Real good right now." Riley got up. "I'm off to check. Do you have anything new?"

"Nothing yet. The postman Nick saw is a bust. No one at the post office that delivered to Hacienda Avenue saw him." Greg looked down, shaking his head. "A whole lot of dead ends."

Riley laid her hand on his knee. "We'll figure it out. Don't go giving up on him yet."

"I'm not giving up on him. Nothing's wrong with him."

She looked peculiarly at Greg. That was an odd response. "I didn't say anything was wrong with him."

"I know, I just… It feels like that's what everyone's believing, and, I dunno, I'm feeling a little on edge with everything."

She smiled. "That's okay. You're allowed. I'm going to go see what I find out."

Greg nodded, watching her walk away. He paused to take a long deep breath, rub his tired eyes, and then went back to his desk to find something to get Nick out.

* * *

Supreme Justice Hank Harper stumbled down out of his bedroom into the hall. The person ringing the doorbell was being persistent.

"I'm coming!" he barked at the door. He passed his daughter's door as it opened. "Stay in your room, honey."

Harper climbed down the stairs to the front door and threw it open, prepared to rip into the person on the other side. He never got the chance, because Ecklie was waiting. He had a piece of paper held up.

"Did you sign this, Hank? Did you? Because if you signed this, we are going to go rounds about it. Did you sign this?"

Harper ripped the paper out of Ecklie's hand with one hand, and flicked on the foyer light with the other hand. He tilted it, looking over the paper.

"Looks like my signature, but… Who's this for?"

"CSI Nicolas Stokes."

Harper looked at him. "Why would she want Nick committed?"

"Hank, if you didn't sign this, then he shouldn't be committed. Did you sign it or not?"

"I sign a lot of these, Conrad."

Conrad stepped in, standing close. "Fine. Let's say you did. You owe me a really big favor, and I've come to collect. Get him out of that place now. Tonight. Nick does not belong there."

Harper stared at Conrad. "How do I know that?"

"Because the psychiatrist that signed it," Ecklie pointed at the signature, "has been doing everything in her power to convince me Nick is insane. Yet the therapist he's been seeing for two years, begs to differ. I'm going to go with the one that actually gives a damned about Nick and isn't paid by the PD by session."

Harper looked at the paper. "The K isn't right."

"What?"

"The K. That's not my K."

"I don't care, Hank. Get Nick out. Now. Tonight."

Harper looked up at Conrad. "You really care about this kid, don't you?"

"Yes. He's one of my best."

"I've heard you've been working every loophole for some CSI that tried to strike his supervisor. Is this the one?"

"He wasn't trying to strike her, they were both just stressed, and yes."

"There's something going on here, Conrad."

Conrad didn't deny or admit to the accusation.

"I didn't sign this paper."

"Fine. Give me a writing sample. I'm getting this CSI out, Hank. You're helping me one way or the other."

Harper stared at him for minutes, weighing something. "And you think this kid really isn't a threat?"

"No. He's not."

Harper looked at the paper. "I'll sign a judgment, a real one." Hank looked up at Conrad. "Then we're even. Don't come banging on my door in the middle of the night again."

Conrad nodded. Harper led Conrad to his office at the back of the house.

* * *

Arlene walked down the hall to the office door, sorting out her key to unlock it. She stopped when she found it opened.

"Not again," she muttered. Twice in the last six months someone had broken in and trashed the office.

Arlene reached for the door as it flew open. She and Julia looked at each other in surprise. Then Arlene noticed Julia was loaded down with boxes and bags.

"Good morning. What's going on?" Arlene asked.

"Cancel all my appointments and then you're free to go," Julia said, trying to push past Arlene.

"What? Why? What's going on, Julia?"

"I'm closing the practice. Cancel all the appointments, Arlene."

"Why are you closing? Why didn't you tell me?"

"I'm telling you now." Julia pushed past her.

"Do you have an idea what it's like to find a job right now?"

"I have to leave. Just cancel all appointments."

Arlene stared down the hall, thinking of all the arguments she had about this until suddenly a realization hit her. She ran, into Julia's office. The place was almost bare. There were three more boxes waiting, but Julia would be back from them. Arlene's eyes drifted down to a box of tapes sitting by the desk.

Detective Brass' voice repeated in her head suddenly,_ "If you suddenly find your guilty conscience can't handle it anymore, give me a call."_

Arlene crouched down and fished for two particular tapes. She pulled them out and slipped them in her purse. Then she headed for the door. It was her turn to meet Julia at the door.

"Where are you going?"

"You fired me. I don't have to call anyone!" Arlene snapped, and then shoved past Julia.

"Don't expect a good reference!" Julia snarled.

Under her breath Arlene snarled back, "You won't be free long enough to give one."

* * *

Ecklie paced the five foot width of the hall like an angry, caged bull. A doctor came around the corner with the nurse he hadn't asked, but yelled at, to get the doctor who was refusing to release Nick.

"Are you Doctor Hauk?" Ecklie demanded.

"Yes, sir. And you are—"

"Under Sheriff Conrad Eclie and I want to know why your nurses aren't honoring the release form that I had signed by Supreme Justice Harper. This isn't difficult. The paper says Nicolas Stokes is released; I want him here, now. We're leaving!"

"He was admitted for—"

"It was forged. I told your nurse to call Judge Harper and she did. He confirmed this. What is the problem?"

Hauk shooed the nurse off and then motioned Ecklie to walk with him. Ecklie did, keeping a close eye on where he was being led.

"She told me Judge Harper confirmed this was a forged document, and I'm not trying to cause any problems, but… I think Nicolas Stokes needs to stay. At least for a little while."

"Why? What's happened to him now?"

"Now?'

"Someone has been trying to make him look crazy. He isn't crazy."

Doctor Hauk motioned a guard at a door to let them in. The door buzzed and he held the door open for Ecklie. Ecklie didn't go through.

"Please, Under Sheriff. Just come with me. I'll show you why I think he should stay."

The hall had several patients milling in the halls, some talking to themselves or the wall or inanimate objects. Some just stared at them with dead eyes as the two men passed. Some didn't even know they were there. It wasn't the horror Ecklie had always imagined an asylum to be. It was bright, clean, and none of the patients looked distressed.

"Is it always this quiet in here?"

Hauk smiled a little. "Yes. This is wing one. Most people here are self-admitted and none are violent. People who need just a little bit of help."

"You mean drugged," Ecklie snarled.

"I mean help. We avoid medications. Here," he motioned to an open door.

Ecklie stepped into the room with him. There were two single beds on each side of the room, a small single drawer nightstand next to them, and a narrow closet at the foot. There was a space between the bed and closet a foot wide, and Nick sat in one. He had his knees hugged and his face buried against his legs.

"He's been there since last night," Doctor Hauk told Ecklie.

Ecklie looked at him like the Doctor had had lost his mind. "Really?"

"Yes. I'm concerned that—"

"Let's see… If you were put you up for a psych evaluation with a psychiatrist who is a complete bitch, woke up in a wrecked car and almost drowned because someone drugged you, and then be forced into a nut house knowing full well you aren't crazy, how would you deal with that?"

Doctor Hauk stared at Ecklie. "He's…"

"Yes. He's had all that happen to him. Go. Get his things. We're leaving."

Doctor Hauk started to respond.

"RELEASE PAPERS NOW!" Ecklie barked.

The Doctor tripped over his feet leaving, caught himself on the door, and disappeared. Ecklie turned back to Nick. He walked up to him, kneeling on one knee.

"Nick."

Nick didn't move.

"Stokes, look at me."

Nick didn't move. Ecklie heard him sniffle.

"Nick, look at me."

Nick wouldn't listen.

"Look, you're getting out of here. The papers were forged; you were never supposed to be here. They're getting the release papers now and we're leaving. You can't get on the case, but I think you should stay with us at the lab. It's not safe for you to be alone."

Nick didn't move.

Ecklie laid his hand on Nick's arm. Nick recoiled, pulling further into the space, away from Ecklie. He turned, laying his head against the wall.

"Nick, what's wrong?"

In a whisper Nick told him, "Go away. I'm staying."

"No. You're not. We're leaving."

Nick didn't move. Ecklie sat back on his leg, staring at Nick.

"Why do you want to stay?"

"I'm crazy."

"You're not crazy. Come on. Snap out of this."

Nick didn't snap out of it. He didn't look at Ecklie. He didn't show any signs of leaving.

Doctor Hauk came back with Nick's clothes and shoes, and the release papers. Ecklie signed the papers and handed them back.

"I'll wait in the hall," Doctor Hauk said.

"Give us a few minutes."

"Why?"

"Nick was asleep. He doesn't wake up real well," Ecklie lied.

"He was asleep this whole time?"

Ecklie nodded.

"I'll be at the nurse's station. Stop there so I can walk you out and give you the rest of his belongings."

Ecklie nodded, watching the Doctor leave. He tossed the clothes on the bed, turning back to Nick.

"Why do you think you're crazy?"

Nick almost laughed. "I see a dead man and talk to him. That's not crazy?"

"We're working through this, Nick. You can't let that stop you from leaving. Come on. We have to figure out who is behind all this." Ecklie stood.

Nick didn't move. He closed his eyes, pulling his legs close again. Ecklie sat down on the end of the bed, staring at him.

"I'm not really good at pep talks. Are you really going to make me give one now?"

Nick didn't answer. Ecklie leaned over, resting his elbows on his knees. He looked out into the hall, watching patients, orderlies, and nurses pass.

"There's a lot of sick people here, know that?" Ecklie asked.

"I'm one of them."

Ecklie looked down at him. He decided he'd give this his best shot, because, he told himself, he couldn't lose his job when someone found out he'd been protecting Nick. If he stayed in here, that was going to happen. Or so he told himself…

"You think Warrick is a curse, don't you?"

Nick didn't answer, but his eyes drifted open. Ecklie took it as a sign that he was at least listening.

"I think he's a God send for you. Do you really think that you would have made out of the tunnels without him? Or made it through these three weeks of someone trying to set you up?"

Nick shrugged.

"I don't think so. Luckily, we don't have to find out, because he's been with you, helping you. You aren't crazy, Nick. You just have a unique perspective. Don't give up now. Warrick didn't lead you out of the tunnels just to let you rot in here. I've seen some of your best work in years come across my desk while he's been with you. You need him, accept that."

Nick stared at Ecklie, looking like he was searching for something. Ecklie sighed, looking down.

"I am going to leave now and go flirt with a nurse or two down the hall. I'd really like you to join me in five minutes so we can go catch whoever's doing this."

"It's someone I put away for forgery."

Ecklie looked at him. "Pardon?"

"I think it's someone I put away for forgery. My handwriting was forged on a note with addresses. The commitment papers were forged to a point it was believable. Then there was something Nate said when I was with him, before he drugged me. Whoever this is… I think I arrested them forgery."

Ecklie smiled. "That's a great start. Get dressed and I'll go tell Catherine." He got up and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Nick looked down the bed at Warrick. He had been sitting there, the whole time, silently listening to Ecklie.

"Well? Get dressed already!" Warrick told him.

Nick looked down. Warrick appeared next to him, sitting shoulder to shoulder with him

"Come on, Nicky. Don't give up on me now. We have a mystery to solve, and criminals to catch. We are far from done here."

Nick closed his eyes. With a deep breath he stood up and started changing from the scrubs he was in to his own clothes.

* * *

Mandy came into the tox lab, watching Henry carefully swabbing the inside of the syringe Greg had found on Nick's rental car. He pulled out the swab, looking up at her.

"Any luck with it so far?" she asked.

"I'll know in a few minutes." Henry cut the swab off in a vial and added solution. "Any luck with prints?"

"Dead end. No match in any database, and I mean any. I tried every one I could think of, and a few I wouldn't normally think of."

Henry slid the vial into the mass spectrometer and started it. He looked at her.

"Are you going home?"

She shook her head. "Not till we get him out."

Henry nodded. "Yeah. Me neither."

Henry leaned back against the counter, watching the machine. Mandy stood next to him.

"Do you think he's crazy?" she asked.

"We all are to work this job."

"Seriously, Henry."

"I think crazy is a really bad word to measure with. There are different levels and I think Nick's just had a really rough last year. Every time he's turned around something has happened to him. If he didn't let himself go a little crazy, he would lose it."

"He talks to himself a lot. One day I found him carrying on a conversation like there was someone else in the room," Mandy whispered, glancing back as if she wanted to make sure no one had overheard her. "Never told anyone before now. I didn't want him to get fired or anything."

Henry leaned over and whispered, "Mandy, you do that too. I've caught you several times."

She smiled at him. "I didn't think anyone noticed."

Henry laughed. "Did you know that talking to yourself actually helps your cognitive and reasoning skills?"

"Really?"

"Yes. So I guess you and he are just more advanced than the rest of us."

She laughed, hugging his arm.

The mass spectrometer finished and on the printer behind Henry, it spit out the results. Henry pulled it up.

"Hello triazolam. We meet again. Gotta go talk to Catherine."

"What is that?"

"It's a hypnotic narcotic used to treat insomnia. Based on the residue, it would have been enough to knock Nick out for hours."

"While he was in the lake?"

"Possibly. He's lucky he didn't drown before Jim found him."

"That sounds more like someone wanted to kill him. If he hadn't been floating on his back when they found him in Lake Mead…"

"He would have drowned once this knocked him out. Someone really wants Nick gone for good." Henry headed out of the lab with the results.

* * *

Langston, Catherine, Greg, and Riley pored over case files, searching for the missing link. The one that would pull the entire case together. Ecklie burst into the room, setting the fax emergency involuntary court-ordered admission and a copy of the release down in front of Catherine.

"It was a forgery and a good one," Ecklie said. "Ronnie said he's seen another good one with a note Nick had on him. Someone is playing games with us and I'm not sure which makes me angrier: that, or that they're toying with Nick's life here. My gut's telling me that whoever is behind this may be someone he put away for forgery, so dig into those case files and find him or her. I'm going to get Nick out." And then he was gone.

Catherine looked at the three. "You heard him. Look for forgery cases."

They fished those cases out, and one stood out to Catherine. "Jeff Katrick. Nick put him away seven years ago for forgery, theft through the sale of false documents, and impersonating a city official."

"I remember that one," Greg said. "The guy was forging historical documents and passing them off as real. And he forced a doctorate in archeology to make people further believe his fake documents."

"Is he released?" Catherine asked.

Greg turned to a computer and checked. "Yes. About six months ago. And he's now wanted on a warrant for failure to comply with the court. He's skipped his probation meetings, too."

"So the guy fell off the map. How does he connect to what's been happening with Nick, though?" Riley questioned. "It sounds like he wouldn't have much knowledge of medications."

"No. But Julia would. Cross-reference them. See if there's a connection, Greg."

Greg searched. He nodded. "Julia Green never changed her name after marrying Katrick." Greg turned to them. "And she isn't a psychiatrist, she's a nurse. That's our connection, right there."

"Not really." Catherine looked at the table of evidence and case files. "We can say that she did it, but until we find proof that she might have been behind it, we've got nothing. None of the prints or DNA link back to either of them. We need more, something to put the smoking gun in her hand."

"Do we have to have prints and DNA?" Langston asked.

"Katrick is a criminal. He's in the database. If nothing links to him, and we try to pin anything on him, his lawyer will have a field day with us. We need proof. A long finger that points right at him and his wife."

"It would help if we could find this Katrick."

"You just volunteered, Riley. Hunt him down."

"On it." Riley got up and left to start her search.

"Keep digging, guys. There has to be something in all this."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Nick stared at the floor of the reception area, slowly rubbing his hands together. He longed to be in the back, helping the team find Julia, and Katrick, and nail their hides to the wall. He looked up when a coffee cup moved into his view and smiled at Greta. She sat down, watching him take it.

"Hello, Nick," she said.

"You make work calls now?"

"I make exceptions from time to time. I spoke to Conrad and Catherine tonight. They told me everything that's been happening. So they think this psychiatrist is behind your blackouts?"

Nick nodded, sipping his coffee.

"Why didn't you come to me when this started? I thought we trusted each other more than this."

Nick looked at her. "I didn't… I didn't think that I could."

"Why couldn't you?"

Nick shrugged, looking at his cup. "I'm a CSI. I should be able to handle something like this on my own."

"Nick, the minute she asked you for our sessions notes you should have said something to me. She was behaving strangely from that moment. I could have told you that. You're a CSI, not a psychologist, remember?"

He smiled. "I am of sorts. How else do you think I get the bad guys to talk?"

She laughed. He wanted to tell her how nice it was to hear her laugh. Her laugh never hid anything from him and relaxed him. She would never twist truths or try to hurt him like Julia had. Or maybe these weeks spent with Julia made him realize just how good of a therapist he really had.

"We take things for granted. People, I mean," Nick said. "Even the ones that have passed on."

"You have just identified one of humanity's banes, Nicolas," she told him with a gracious smile. "We never realize how much a person or life means to us until it's gone forever. But it makes us really appreciate the next one that comes along." She leaned close, whispering, "Even if we only see that person or life and no one else does." She winked as she sat back in her chair.

Nick smiled, looking at his cup. He started to comment, but someone saying his name cut him off.

He and Greta looked up, staring at Arlene. Not knowing if she was here as a friend or Julia's accomplice, Nick stood and prepared to call the officer at the front desk if he had to.

"Hey, Arlene. What are you doing here?"

"Julia's disappeared."

"I know. Jim told me he went by the office to bring her in for questioning and she'd cleared out. Do you know where she went?"

Arlene shook her head as she walked up to him, reaching in her purse. She held out two videotapes.

"These were… They were dropped on the floor. I didn't know what else to do with them. I think they're session tapes – maybe even yours. There might even be interviews with Miranda Thornton and Hugh Kallen on them."

Nick took the tapes, not taking his eyes off her. "They were dropped on the floor?"

Arlene nodded. "Yes. Of course."

Nick realized she was there as a friend, or at the very least, an enemy of Julia's. Either worked good for him. "Okay. We'll be sure to note that. Thank you Arlene."

She turned away.

"Are you going home?"

"Yes."

"No."

She looked at him.

"Arlene, don't go home. Get in your car and leave town. Go somewhere Julia doesn't know about. Give me your number. I'll call you when we find her. You're not safe here."

"Do you really think that?"

"Yes."

Arlene looked down. She shook her head. "I'll make it on my own. Thanks for the concern, Nick."

She left. Nick looked at the tapes. They were labeled with dates – two dates he'd had sessions, and so had Miranda, Nate and Hugh. Nick walked over to the counter.

"Call Catherine up here. I have some evidence to hand over."

The officer nodded, making the call.

* * *

Hodges waited anxiously for the results and those came suddenly. He saw Catherine walking past and knocked on the window. She stopped and turned. He waved her in.

"What Hodges?" Catherine asked.

"Greg gave me some moss that was found in Nick's pickup."

"His pickup? He hasn't had that for weeks."

"I know, and he said it wasn't important, so I forgot about it until last night."

"Did Nick say why he'd have moss in his pickup?"

"No. When I asked him about it the day after, he said he hadn't been anywhere he would have tracked moss in it. So I ran it. It's Grimmia Americana. There are only three known populations worldwide: one in west Texas, one in Arizona, and the Newberry Mountains. So I went over the trace brought in from the rental car, the first one that was returned unscathed after Nick's second blackout. There was moss in it too, this time on the driver's side. Someone from that area has been in both vehicles."

"Someone who would want Nick to look crazy, you mean."

"Yes. Someone like that."

Catherine made a phone call. "Greg. We might have narrowed our search down. Look for property in either Julia or Katrick's name in the Newberry Mountains."

#

Greg followed Jim into the meeting room and stood at the back with him. There was such ambiguity between CSI and police officers that he rarely made friends with them. The only three he'd ever considered friends had either moved on or were promoted; there wasn't any on the force now he considered friend. He never understood how Nick made so many friends on the force, but then, he never understood how Nick made so many friends among the people they met on the job, either. How could someone so loved, so outgoing and friendly, make such enemies? There was no logic behind it. He—

"Greg," Jim said.

Greg looked at him. He motioned toward the room with his head. Greg looked out at the eyes all on him, waiting for him to talk. How long had he been off in his own world?

"Uhm, we are going to be coordinating efforts with the county deputies on this," Greg dove right into the reason he was here. "We've identified these two as persons of interest, possibly two people who are attempting to kill one of our CSI." Greg held up the photographs and started to shuffle them behind his paper.

Jim took them from him and tacked them to a bulletin board.

"They—"

"They're the ones after Nick?" Jeremy asked.

Greg looked up at him, nodding. "We think so. The woman claimed to be a psychiatrist conducting a pysch evaluation, but we found out she's not. She's a nurse."

"You mean she was faking being a shrink?" an officer asked.

"Yeah. She was. I have—"

"Is this the witch that had him committed?" someone else asked. "Nick's not crazy. He doesn't belong in that place."

"I agree, yes she is, he's not there anymore, and Ecklie proved the judgment was a forge. Which we think her husband, the man, did."

"You have some places for us to look for these two, I take it," Roger said.

"Yes. I couldn't find their names, but we have reason to believe they're in the Newberry Mountains. I found all the properties with either a matching first or last name. You and county are going to have to do the footwork for us, sorry, we—"

"Hey, if it's to get this crazy broad off the street before my pysch eval, I'm game."

"I'm game if she tried putting Nick away. No one puts my friends in a nut house."

That erupted the room into angry promises about what was going to happen when they caught the couple. The officers got up and swarmed around Greg. He quickly read off addresses that county had been unable to take. Not that the county officers didn't want to help, but the county sheriff put his foot down and wouldn't let them have more than two or three a piece. He didn't want to leave the rest of Clark county unprotected while they were all focused on the addresses. But he did promise that he and the rest of the deputies would make it a priority once the couple was found, muttering something under his breath about maybe thinking they were armed, oops, didn't need that leg.

The room cleared out fast, leaving Jim, Greg, and the police chief. Greg felt a little helpless suddenly. He wanted to be with the officers looking for this couple, but Catherine reined the CSI in, reminding them of where the line had to be drawn right now. Once they caught the two, if they got a lawyer, they couldn't allow for any mistakes that would let them get away.

Jim patted Greg's shoulder.

"We'll find them now, Ace."

Greg nodded. "It's a good thing it's Nick and not me. I don't think I would have gotten that kind of a response."

Jim chuckled. "Give it a few years, Greg. They'll warm up to you."

* * *

Jeremy slowed the squad car as he killed the headlights. Up ahead he and Roger could see the lights of the cabin. Jeremy eased the car to a stop when they could see the front of the cabin through the trees. They could see Julia and a man hurrying to and from the house, hastily packing a moving van. Jeremy picked up the radio mic, keeping his eyes on the front door – he felt if he looked away he'd lose sight of the two that had put Nick through hell.

"Unit 412 to dispatch," Jeremy said.

"Go ahead unit," dispatch said. The woman's voice was staticky but clearer than they normally got in these hills.

"We were checking out 24433 Blue Bird Lane and we've found the suspects. We needed backup two minutes ago, they're getting ready to run."

"All units, backup requested at 24433 Blue Bird Lane. Unit on site, monitoring suspects."

"Monitoring my ass," Roger said, grabbing the door handle.

"We _should_ wait," Jeremy said as his hand went down to release the strap on his side arm.

"Not a chance."

The two got out and started toward the cabin.

"Las Vegas PD!" Roger yelled when the two came out of the cabin. "Set the boxes down and put your hands up."

The couple dropped what they were carrying and ran back inside, slamming the door shut.

"I'll go around ba—"

Katrick came out firing a pistol, and Julia was right behind him with a shotgun. The two quickly took cover, faster than the officers could. Roger found a spot behind a boulder, but Jeremy was left in the open. He glanced at Jeremy when he hit the ground, but he didn't have time to concentrate on him. He wasn't about to let these two leave the state, county, or this property. His friend deserved justice.

* * *

Catherine hadn't even stopped her Tahoe when Nick hopped out and headed up the road. It was packed with three city and a half dozen county squad cars. Ahead there was an ambulance and off to the side he recognized the coroner van. He headed for the ambulance first. He came around the door to find Roger on the stretcher. His shirt had been cut open and there were gauze pads taped over his abdomen. He was conscious and seeing Nick made him smile. He pulled the oxygen mask down to his chin.

"We got 'em. We promised we would, Nick."

Nick smiled, nodding. "You did."

"Jeremy… He didn't make it."

Nick nodded, trying not to tear up. He was aware of Warrick standing behind him, but the hallucination kept silent.

"We have to go, Nick," Pete the paramedic told him.

Nick gave Roger's shoulder a squeeze. "I'm checking on you later, man. Don't plan on going anywhere."

Roger smiled, putting the oxygen mask back on. One paramedic climbed in with him and Pete closed the back doors. He hopped in and dove the ambulance down the road.* Nick looked at the coroner wagon. David was crouched next to the stretcher, writing on a clipboard. Nick headed toward him.

He passed the two squad cars that held Julia and Katrick. Nick shot scathing glares at both of them as he passed. Julia started yelling at him, but the glass muted her insults and screams. Nick didn't give her the pleasure of a reaction.

He stopped next to David, staring down at Jeremy. David looked up at him, waiting for him to say something.

Warrick crouched next to David, saying near his ear, "He died doing what he loved."

"Yeah," Nick whispered.

"What?" David asked.

"He was too young to die like this."

"He died doing what he loved," David said.

David reciting Warrick's exact words stunned Nick. Warrick patted David's shoulder as he stood and walked behind Nick. Nick focused on David to prevent giving his hallucination away.

"Yeah." Nick finally said. "Doesn't make it feel right."

"Never does. Do you need a moment with him?"

Nick shook his head. "Thanks anyway."

David nodded. Nick turned and found Jim standing behind him.

"Catherine said she only let you come to see your friends." Jim glanced at Jeremy on the gurney. "But you need to leave now. We can't afford to let their lawyer find any fault in how things were processed."

"Greg called. He said it was bad inside."

"That smoking gun Catherine was looking for is all over their basement. They were stalking you, Nick. They knew more about you than I do. And when that plot to have you committed fell through, they'd made plans about how they were going to kill you – you really don't want to know how – and bury you before they skipped the state."

Nick glanced at the car Julia was in. She stared out the front window, ignoring everyone.

"And we were supposed to trust her. How sad is that?"

"Pretty sad. Look, Nick, you need to leave now. I'm serious about the lawyer and I really don't want to be searching the desert for your body some day. I'm heading back now, so why don't you ride back with me?"

Nick nodded and they headed down the road to where Jim's car waited on the main road. They got in and Jim drove away. Nick glanced over his shoulder, finding Warrick sitting in the back. He wasn't very talkative tonight – that had stopped when word came over radio that one officer was down and another was killed. Apparently even his hallucination felt guilt knowing they had been hurt and killed protecting Nick.

"You did a good job, Nick," Jim told him.

"On what?"

"This case. Even if you did have to go old school gum shoe, it was excellent work." Jim smiled. "I never doubted your work, even now. I think you're at the top of your game."

Nick smiled. "Thanks."

"There is something about this whole thing is still bugging me though."

"That can't be good," Warrick quietly commented.

"What's that?" Nick asked.

"Well, I know Henry and Langston proved you were drugged during the video."

"This really cannot be good," Warrick said, leaning on the back of the seat between them.

"Yeah. They did."

"It doesn't explain all the other times I've overheard you talking to someone, and there was no one there."

"I talk things out now. Can't help it."

Brass cocked his head to the side, as if he was giving this some thought. He shook his head.

"You're hallucinating and see Warrick all the time. I know you are. Don't lie to me."

Nick didn't confirm or deny anything.

Several miles passed and Nick thought the conversation was over.

"I was a rookie on Vice and because I was so determined to clean up, it was hard for me to keep a partner. When everything else they tried didn't work to get rid of me, they partnered me with Ted 'Insane' Daparelle. Everyone said he was crazy because he talked to his older and dead brother, Sam. Sam had been a uniform and was killed during a drug bust, died in Ted's arms. I wasn't looking forward to this, but it turned out that crazy cop that talked to his dead brother was the nicest guy you could ever know, and the best detective on the force. His unique perspective helped us close more cases, and he'd made friends among the lawyers and judges, so his whole talking to a dead man never became an issue. We clicked. He was one of two best friends I'd ever had in my life – the other was in fifth grade." Jim chuckled at that memory.

Nick was speechless. Brass rarely spoke about his past, and this was a past he hadn't seen coming. Even Warrick remained silent.

Brass went on. "One day, we went into this warehouse after this guy, a real piece of work. He was out to kill us because he wasn't going to jail. We got pinned down and do you know what my crazy, hallucinating partner did?"

"Save his brother?"

Brass smiled. "No. He knew he was a hallucination, he wouldn't have done something so stupid, but he did save me. He told me his brother found a way out of the place, through this door across the hall, but it meant someone had to stay behind and keep the guy busy while the other went for help. He said he and his brother would keep the guy busy while I went. We argued about it a bit, and then I went. By the time I got there with backup he was dead. But the strangest thing was he'd managed to get close enough to the shooter to strangle him. The M.E. wrote it off as an adrenaline rush, told me that adrenaline cause people to do things that look super-human. He said my partner was pumped so full of adrenaline because of the shoot out that he probably didn't feel the bullets. Maybe it was the adrenaline. Or maybe it was a dead brother's hands. Could have been both. Ted may have talked a lot to a dead man, but he gave his life to save mine, that's all I care about."

Brass stopped talking. Nick glanced at Warrick before looking out the windshield.

"What's your point?" Nick quietly asked.

"The point is I don't think you're any less of a CSI, Nick. You more sane than most of the people we work with even if you are talking to a dead man. Never forget that."

"I won't."

"But most important, guys, is that you have to pass that psych eval to get back to work. Think you two can keep it together long enough to do that?"

In unison Warrick and Nick answered, "Yes."

"Good. I look forward to seeing you back in the office in a few days then."

Nick nodded, and the conversation dropped.

* * *

_And now you know… the __rest of the story._

* "Shadow of the Day", Linkin Park. It came on while writing this scene. Seemed fitting. There ya go, a frightening glimpse into my multi-track mind.

-0- The title is part of a quote from Carl Jung: : "Show me a sane man and I will cure him for you."

And man! I hope I have the legal stuff right, cuz I am so not a lawyer, and reading all the mental health laws pertaining to Clark County and Nevada made my eyes cross...


End file.
